


These Mutant Kids (Fused at the Wrist)

by allonsysouffle



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: (like seriously dont read if that triggers ya), Alternate Universe - High School, Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, Bullying, Dysfunctional Relationships, Genderfluid Character, Homophobia, M/M, Pansexual Character, Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, THE WHOLE GANG'S HERE AND THEY'RE INCREDIBLY QUEER, Teen Angst, Trans Male Character, and a Whole Lotta Gay, basically all sexualities/romantic orientations/gender identities will be represented, esp. internalized homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:38:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 50,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsysouffle/pseuds/allonsysouffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It all started in bubbly rainbow lettering, which was just fucking typical. <i></i></i>
</p><p>In which Gavin is really, ridiculously, openly gay and Michael- just as gay, but infinitely less open about it- somehow ends up being the only person to come to the LGBTQ+ school club he sets up. But then Ray comes along the next week. Then Ryan. Then Geoff, and Jack, and Meg, and Lindsay... Pretty soon, a whole gang of misfit queer kids gathers in Mr. Hullum’s English classroom every Thursday after school, talking shit and trying to hold themselves together. </p><p>Meanwhile, Michael struggles with juggling his mental health, Catholic parents and his relationship, Gavin is really, really, clueless, Caleb is Not A Girl, Ryan and Ray run lines in a broom closet somewhere and Lindsay is a total badass. They're tragic, dysfunctional and ridiculously overdramatic in a way that only teenagers can be, messing up and making out and falling headfirst into the terror that is growing up.</p><p>Oh, and Miles wears a skirt. Sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (putting my fingers to my head)

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! Hope you enjoy the start of this self-fulfilling mess of a fic. I’ve been planning it out for ages and trying to put it into words has been very, very hard. Chapters will be posted sporadically and somewhat far-apart due to hectic life, but I have loads more planned. Also, the title and chapter titles are all based off the song ‘Guns For Hands’ by 21 Pilots (listen to it, god damn).  
> Basically all of the RT people will be in this, with a varying spectrum of sexualities, romantic orientations and gender identities- but that will come a little later on (and the whole fic is pretty much centered around Michael). Happy reading!  
> -E

It all started in bubbly rainbow lettering, which was just fucking typical. 

** LGBTQ+ CLUB, FIRST MEETING TODAY!  **

** QUEER? QUESTIONING? WE’RE HERE FOR YOU!  **

** EVERY THURSDAY, 3:30-4:30 PM, MR. HULLUM’S CLASSROOM  **

That shit assaulted his very eyes with its preschool-esque, multicolored, hand-drawn letters, yet Michael couldn’t draw his gaze away from the garish sign adorning the bulletin board across the hall from his locker. There was only one kid in the entire school who could pull this fuckery off.

Gavin Free. 

Michael had only talked to the guy a couple of times in Spanish, but he was rather famous around the school for being possibly the gayest gay to ever gay. He was heinously homosexual. Quintessentially queer. He was somewhat fashion-savvy, ridiculously overemotional, and had stupid flicky hair that looked like it had come straight out of a boy band magazine. And he was eccentric as dicks. Oh, _and_ he was British. Of course, that only drew in more asshole jocks to push him around, but he took it all with a grin and a cheap innuendo. 

In short, he was the stereotypical gay teenager. And nothing pissed Michael off more than stereotypes.

He let out a tiny sigh and turned back to his locker, tossing his math textbook into his backpack and slamming the metal door with a resounding clang. 

_Stupid fucking Gavin and his ridiculous motherfucking queer club._

He shouldered his bag and looked back at Ray, who was shuffling through a pile of mismatched bits of graphing paper. He pulled one crumpled sheet out at random and crossed his arms, watching Michael with those unblinking brown eyes of his.

“Yo, man, you okay?” Ray asked. “You kinda sighed there for a second.”

“Uh, I’m in _school_ ,” said Michael, shouldering his backpack with more force than probably needed. “What else am I supposed to do? Smile? Laugh? This place is the fucking kingdom of sighs, dude. The goddamn empire of exhales.” Ray laughed then, turning away from the peeling puke-green paint of the lockers. He caught sight of the bulletin board for half a second, then squinted, reading the words on the poster. _Oh, please don’t mention it, please don’t-_

“LGBT...Q?” Ray sounded out slowly, biting his lip. “ _Plus?_ The fuck does that even mean?”

Michael swallowed. “That must have been, uh, Gavin. Huh. Weird.”

“Right.” Ray jostled him with a sharp elbow, all sarcasm and snide humor, as they made their way to the math classroom. “Ha, you gonna join?”

The tiny silver cross on its tiny silver chain was cool against his neck, but it seemed to burn into his skin in that moment.

“Why the fuck would I? I’m not gay,” he answered, the lie rolling too easily off his tongue. 

Because, the fact of the matter was, _God be damned, good Christian values be damned,_ Michael Jones was gay. That was it. He liked dudes. He was a good Christian boy, and he was gay. Ever since seventh grade- and that cute boy in his Sunday School class- he knew he was pretty much screwed for the rest of his youth. Whoop-de-fucking-do.

Of course, no one could ever know about it. Not even Ray. There were reasons for that, really fucking good ones. There was no way he’d tell anyone, not ever. It was all too fucking _risky_. He was dancing around a secret that he couldn’t afford to let leak. 

Ray simply shrugged. “Whatever. Sounds dumb, anyway. Hey, can I copy off your math homework? I kinda.. forgot about it.”

“Dude, really?” 

“Hey! It isn’t my fault Mr Sorola’s voice makes me tired! It’s just so _gravelly_ , man...”

 

* * *

Michael swore that the clocks in the school were all broken. There was no way the second hand could be that slow. _No fucking way._

Mr Burns droned on about the Vietnam War and the effects of napalm on the country’s development and _blah blah blah it’s all in the past anyway nobody fucking cares_.

The whole class period, Michael had been thinking about the club. Gavin’s gay club. It would be a really shit idea to go, but he had to admit he was kind of drawn to it. Even though it would probably be just a couple of social justice warriors and maybe a confused freshman or two, it would be cool to meet other people like him. But he didn’t know the first thing about queer rights or whatever, so it wasn’t like he’d contribute much. And he didn’t want to deal with anyone getting on his case about coming out. 

The minute hand of the clock finally ticked to 3:15, and the classroom erupted into a million conversations. Michael high-tailed it out of the room, making his way to his locker before the halls got too crowded. He pulled out whatever textbooks he needed for tonight’s to-be-forgotten homework, then was faced with the two directions of the hallway. On one hand, he could turn right, go out the main entrance and head home- or he could go left, towards Mr Hullum’s classroom and confessions and terror and his only chance at acceptance.

Without thinking he found himself walking left, cursing under his breath the whole way.

“Fucking Gavin Free and his stupid _asshole_ club and his shitty rainbow _signs._..”

He got to the English classroom in record time, going the opposite direction of the frenzied flow of students all desperate for freedom from the suffocating hallways. 

His phone buzzed as he rounded the corridor towards the English classroom and he stopped to check it.

**[3:23:09 PM] Ray:** duuude where are you?? we were supposed to walk home together 

“Fuck,” he muttered, leaning against a locker as he replied.

**[3:23:42 PM] Michael:** shit, sorry!! mom picked me up :((

**[3:24:38 PM] Ray:** its cool bro

**[3:25:16 PM] Ray:** tmrw?

**[3:25:49 PM] Michael:** tomorrow, i promise

**[3:26:18 PM] Ray:** cool beans

Michael slipped his phone into his pocket, feeling a strange tingle of excitement travel up his spine as he stopped outside the door. This was the closest thing to a sin he’d done, his first step towards Hell. _Deep breaths. You can do this._

Apparently, Hell was an empty classroom. He peered in through the transparent panel in the door, but the place looked completely deserted. Not even Gavin himself had showed. _Figures. I get up the courage to a) come out to other people and b) actively join a school club, and it’s a fucking no-show. Just fucking typical._

Michael grumbled to himself and pushed open the door, collapsing into a chair and tossing his bag onto the ground. _Is this what my life has deteriorated into? Missed opportunities and empty fucking classrooms?_

At 3:31 exactly (Michael knew this because he’d just checked his phone for the eighth time in five minutes), the door opened again with a low, drawn-out creak, and he reluctantly picked up his bag, expecting a janitor or a teacher to kick him out for staying late.

“Oh, bloody hell.”

_Ah, shit._

Gavin Free had stalked into the room. He was clutching one of his crumpled posters in a clenched fist, and he was fuming. It was the first time Michael had seen him actually, properly pissed, and not _oi you spilled your food on my skinny jeans don’t you know these are designer_ sort of pissed.

“Uh, hi,” Michael mumbled. 

“ _One_ person? Seriously?” Gavin wasn’t even looking at him, pacing in frustration. “The work I put into this bollocking club, posters and talking to Mr Hullum and everything, and one person shows up? Christ. _Christ_ ,” he rambled.

“Hello?” Michael tried again, waving this time. Nothing. “Hey? Dickhead? You alive?”

That made Gavin turn his head. He narrowed his eyes, looking Michael up and down, almost examining him. His gaze softened, and a cocky grin slid onto his face. Michael hated that cocky fucking grin.

_Be nice to him, asshole,_ he scolded himself. _You’re the only guy that showed up to his stupid club, he’s probably really broken up about it_.

_Wait, did I just think that?_

“Right. Well,” said Gavin, seemingly taken aback. “I’m Gavin Free, president of this club- though, I suppose it’s not much of a club if it’s just the two of-”

“Gavin. Shut up. I already know who the fuck you are.”

Gavin made a noise between a sigh and a tut, pulling up another chair. 

“So,” he started. “Michael Jones, right?” 

He nodded. “Before you ask, yeah, I’m, uh, I’m gay.” That was the first time he’d said it out loud. It felt unfamiliar on his tongue. 

“ _Really?_ ”

“Um, yeah. As the fourth of fucking July.” 

Gavin raised his eyebrows. “Never expected _you_.”

_The fuck is this guy’s problem?_ “So you think because I don’t like ballet or scarves or Lady friggin’ Gaga I’m not as gay as you are?”

“Uh..”

“Fucking fight me, asshat.” This guy was seriously starting to get on Michael’s nerves. Then again, it didn’t take much to set off his fuse these days.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean..” Gavin trailed off. He groaned. “Sorry. It’s been a long bloody day.”

“We’ve all had long days,” Michael snapped. “Doesn’t mean you can be a dick about it.”

Gavin ran his hand through his stupid hair, and Michael swore his hands were full of fucking glue or something because somehow he got it to be even spikier than it already was. “I said I was sorry, alright? So, down to business...” He unzipped his Union-Jack patterned backpack _because of course Gavin Free has a Union-Jack patterned backpack the British prick_ and drew out a plain notebook. He flipped to a page filled with bullet points and notes and cleared his throat.

“So, first things first, roll call.”

“You’re a dick.”

“I’m... sorry?”

Michael huffed. He was so fucking done with this bullshit. He shouldn’t have come at all. “Stop with this.. club thing. It’s just the two of us and it’s gonna just be the fucking two of us today, so you don’t need to do a roll call, or any shit like that. Why don’t we just.. talk, or something?”

“Talk?”

“Yeah, uh, talk. Like, fuck, when did you figure out when you were gay?” Gavin opened his mouth to answer but Michael interrupted before he could say anything. “And if you say ‘the day I was born’ I will slit your goddamn throat.”

Gavin chuckled. “Alright, mate, chill.” He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin as if he actually had to think about it. “I think I must have been about eight, I think? My mum has this home video of me toddling around our flat in Oxfordshire wearing this pink feather boa and singing some show-tune I heard on the radio.” He chuckled, and Michael almost gagged. _What a fucking twink._

“But what about you?” Gavin prompted, taking a swig from his water bottle. “When did you, er, figure it out?”

“Seventh grade,” he replied, grimacing. “I was at Sunday School- you know, Bible study and all that- and the new kid in my class was.. well, he was hot as dicks. Course, that happened to be the exact same lesson we learnt about the sin of homosexuality, or whatever.”

“Christ.”

“Yeah, he was there, too,” Michael deadpanned. “Didn’t have much to say about it, though. Almost like he never actually said anything about gays at all.” 

Gavin burst out laughing. “Aw, Michael, you’re funny when you’re all snarky like that,” he said, grinning toothily. Then his face fell. “Wait, so your family’s, like, uber-religious, then?”

“Yeah, which is sort of.. complicated.” 

“Hey, at least they haven’t kicked you out or anything,” Gavin pointed out, but Michael shook his head.

“That’s because I haven’t come out to them yet. I don’t think I ever will.”

Gavin’s eyes widened to an owl-like roundness. “ _What?_ You’re going to hide away this huge part of yourself, just like that?” 

“It’s not like it’s hard.” Michael wasn’t really bugged by it. It’s not like they needed to know. He’d much rather hide than be homeless.

“Huh.” Gavin, the dumb asshole, still seemed confused. “Good luck with that.”

The pregnant pause in the conversation was conveniently broken by Michael’s phone ringing, the peppy, electronic video game music emanating from his pocket. 

“Hang on a sec, I gotta take this,” he said as soon as he saw the name on the screen. _Mom._ He turned away from Gavin, swiping open the call. “Hello?”

_“Michael, where are you? You were supposed to help me paint the fence today!”_

“Ah, um. Sorry. I totally forgot- I’m at Ray’s house,” he lied. “We’re doing some math homework.”

_“Well, come back as soon as you can, and don’t go anywhere without telling me again, okay?”_

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, mom. See you soon.” He hung up and turned back to Gavin, shrugging apologetically. “Sorry, dude. Gotta run.” He was sort of glad for the excuse. This whole thing, with Gavin, was just getting weird and awkward and too close for comfort. He liked the guy well enough, but he could get a little... personal.

“What?” Gavin squeaked- yeah, he literally squeaked, the prick- “But you just got here!”

“And my mom is a bitch,” said Michael, shouldering his backpack. 

Gavin pouted. “Come on, we haven’t got to the bit where we talk about systematic oppression and the use of homophobic slurs!”

“Sorry, man.” Michael was already halfway out the door. “See you next week.”


	2. (a second at a time)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello groovy people of the internet! Here’s chapter two. I’ve been so, so thrilled by your response to chapter one, I’m glad you guys like it! I am so sorry this took so long, it’s been a hell of a week (including but not limited to: actual irl love triangle, awful crush crisis and a lot of procrastination). Next chapter should be up sooner (but don't hold me to that!) Happy reading! <3  
> -E

“Hey, hey, Michael!”

_Fucking piece of shit God damn-_

For the fifth time in two days, Michael turned to see Gavin running towards him through the hallway, green scarf billowing behind him. He groaned inaudibly. It was way too early in the morning for this bullshit.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asked when Gavin got close enough to hear. _If I’m late to History because of this douchebag I am going to rip out his fucking vocal cords and hang him with them._

“Just wanted to catch up, you know, chat.” He was smiling so innocently, like he didn’t see the throng of people in the corridor with their eyes fixed upon them. News travelled fast in this school, especially anything related to Gavin _because who doesn’t love a good gay scandal_ , and Michael did not want to get caught up in that gossipy shitstorm.

“Well, don’t, I have to get to class,” Michael muttered, already backing away. Gavin stared at him imploringly.

“But _Mi_ -cool-”

“Dude, that’s not my fucking name. It’s Michael,” he said, his anger sparking. _Jesus Christ, if this asshat mispronounces my name one more time..._

“Sorry, boy,” Gavin laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. Michael couldn’t help it- he flinched away from the touch. He was uncomfortably aware of all the eyes on them, everyone thinking _the gay kid actually made a friend?_

“Get the hell off’a me, asshole,” he snapped, old Jersey accent flaring up again. “I have to get to History, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t constantly fucking interrupt me.” He stalked away, leaving Gavin stranded alone in the middle of the hallway.

He hated using his fake-angry persona, but he had to admit it worked in a jam. Dramatic, rude, but it worked. At the freshmen’s Winter Social two years ago, he’d sort of had a nervous breakdown ending in a shouting match between him and his ‘date’- Lindsay Tuggey- fueled by fourteen-year-old angst, half a sexuality crisis and a hell of an inferiority complex. So they didn’t talk anymore, and everyone in their grade had kind of been terrified of him for the past couple years. Some asshole had Christened him with the fucking _lovely_ nickname ‘Rage Quit’, which didn’t really help him make friends. 

“Jones, you’re late,” Mr. Burns reprimanded as Michael slid sheepishly into his seat. “Try to be on time to my class, alright?”

He nodded absentmindedly, already switching off his brain in preparation for the inevitably boring class.

_Yeah, if Gavin-douche-pants-Free ever stops fucking bothering me._

 

* * *

  

“Yo, Michael. Michael? _Michael_. Dude. What the fuck? Michael. Come on. Are you even listening to me? Michael?”

“Huh?”

Michael blinked, Ray’s exasperated face coming clear into focus again. The cafeteria was loud and bustling and crowded and he was exhausted and it just wasn’t his day, so it was no small wonder he wasn’t focusing. 

“Jesus, what’s your problem?” Ray was all angry eyebrows today, apparently. Those eyebrows could kill a man with the right expression.

“Sorry, I’m just-” 

“Tired?” Ray suggested, smirking. “Man, who’d have guessed, right? Teenagers? Tired? _Fucking revolutionary._ ”

“Shut up, Narvaez.”

“Make me, asshat.”

“Maybe I...” Michael trailed off as _holy shit oh no, oh no, God, why would you torture me like this, oh fuck-_ Gavin _motherfucking_ Free waltzed up to their table.

“Micool!” Gavin was grinning like a kid at Disneyland for the first time. “What’s up, boi?” 

“Uh, what the fuck?” Ray’s mouth dropped open. “How the hell do you know Michael?”

_God, I am so fucked._ Michael needed to talk to Gavin, and soon, or he’d inevitably do something stupid and tip everyone off about Michael’s little sexuality problem. _Here goes nothing._

Michael cut in to the conversation, shooting Gavin his foulest, most pissed-off glare as he did what he did best- improvisation. “Uh, we’re partners for this, uh, thing, in Spanish. And he sucks. He really sucks at Spanish. You need the translation for the, erm, for the presentation, right? Because I could go get it, the, uh, USB’s in my locker.” Growing up with overprotective Catholic parents had done wonders for his dishonesty.

Gavin squinted, then tilted his head, apparently getting it. “Ah, yeah, the translation. In the USB. That’s _just_ the thing I need from you. Right then, off we pop!”

Michael shot an amused glance at Ray, shrugging. “Be right back, bro.”

“Yeah, whatever. See you.” 

* * *

 

The hallways were empty, everyone in the cafeteria or at practice or whatever the hell people did during lunch. 

“We’re not actually going to your locker, are we?” asked Gavin skeptically, wringing his hands. 

“No, idiot,” said Michael. “We have to talk. In freaking private.”

They turned the corner to the boys’ changing room. 

“Ugh, really?” Gavin exclaimed, fiddling with the tassels on his scarf. “The changing room? Gross.”

“Come on, clean freak, at least it’s quiet.”

Michael sat down on the cold metal bench, biting at his cuticle. “So..”

“So what? Why are we here?” Gavin murmured, taking a seat on the opposite bench. “What is it you wanted to chat about?”

“Well.” Michael sighed. _Just fucking tell him._ “Stop trying to be my friend.”

“Huh?” 

“Stop with the _chats_ , and the random-ass winks across the classroom, and shit.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes. “I thought, ‘cause of the club... Aren’t we friends? Friends chat all the time, right?”

“It’s not that, it’s just- I mean, I’m kind of a loner and you’re the token gay kid. How is this even going to work?”

“How is _what_ going to work?” 

“Look. Gavin. We.. we just can’t be friends. Not, you know, publicly,” Michael said quietly. 

“What?” His face shifted from crestfallen to offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I have my group of friends, and you have yours. There are reasons for that, right? And we both saw how Ray reacted. So it would be great if you would, you know, stay the hell away from me at school.”

Gavin’s eyes widened, shining full and scared in the low fluorescent light. 

“But-”

“But _nothing_ , Gavin. I know this is strange to you, but _some of us_ have to keep shit secret. No, I can’t just fucking tell people, and I know you’re all ‘it-gets-better’, but you and I both know that’s bullshit, okay? It’s bullshit and I just- I can’t, okay? Like, if people see us talking, they’ll spread rumors, and it might get back to my parents, or Ray, and- I can’t be friends with you because it’s all too fucking _risky_.”

There was silence. And oh, God, was there silence. They’d only really been talking for a few days but it seemed like something- something important- had just been severed, a cut thread, a frayed rope. And he was justified, of course he was justified, and he didn’t owe Gavin shit, but he’d fucked something up for sure and he didn’t even know what it was.

Gavin was steely-eyed, and that might have been the most terrifying thing- that he’d stopped grinning like an idiot. It was no secret that the British asshole held grudges like a total bitch, but Michael had never really believed the stories. The guy was harmless, right?

“Right, then.” His voice had gone all sharp and cold and harsh, and it seemed so alien when not a minute ago it had been lilting and honeyed. “Meeting bloody adjourned.”

 

* * *

 Thursday rolled around all too quickly and Michael found himself dawdling outside Mr. Hullum’s classroom yet again at 3:30. All week long, him and Gavin had given each other the cold shoulder, and for some reason it didn’t feel right. Michael hated the guy- but, inexplicably, he liked him, too. He was the only other person in the entire fucking world who knew that he was gay, and that sort of bond, weak as it was, seemed pretty damn important. For some fucking stupid pansy reason, he wanted to try again.

_Here goes nothing._

The door opened with a painfully loud creak, and Gavin looked up from his phone. He slid it into his pocket, frowning.

“Come to bitch about how sad your life is?” he muttered, managing a smile.

“ _Gavin_. Look, dude, I’m sorry. Seriously.”

“Well, for what it’s worth..” Gavin looked down. “I’m sorry, too. Got a bit dramatic, there didn’t I? Well, I mean, we both did.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know what got into me.” He scratched his head, trying to think of what to say. “I’m just scared, I guess.” 

“Scared to bloody _talk_ to me?”

“Well, people might get... ideas.” He waited a beat before realizing what that sounded like. “Shit, I mean- not like that!”

Gavin spluttered, a pink blush flooding his cheeks. 

Michael wasn’t able to fully appreciate Gavin’s shock, though, because at that exact moment, the door swung open again.

“Uh, did I interrupt something?” 

Michael’s eyes shot to the stranger- and he realized that he was not, in fact, a stranger at all. Checkered Vans, signature purple hoodie, ill-fitting jeans...

_What the fu-_

“Ray?” 

_That’s fucking impossible._ Michael had known Ray since he’d moved from New York in the seventh grade, and he was _not_ gay. That was just completely and utterly wrong. Sure, he’d never had a girlfriend, or talked about girls, or talked about anyone at all, really, but... _Oh my God. I am a total idiot._

He could only stare on, gaping like a fucking fish.

“Oh, shit, Michael?” Ray sounded just as surprised as Michael felt. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same damn thing,” said Michael, crossing his arms. “You’re gay?”

Ray rolled his eyes. “No, asshole. Are you?”

“Yeah, I am!” 

Ray grinned. “Fucking figures. I knew there was no way you were straight.”

“Wait, what are you, then, if you’re not gay? You’re here for the club, aren’t you?” Michael knew that there were more letters than the G in LGBTQ, but he just didn’t expect any of them. They were rarer, right? This whole thing was messing with his head. His best friend had been not-straight all along, right under his goddamn nose? Seriously? _What the fuck?_

Ray sighed, pulling up a chair. “This is gonna get a little complicated. First of all, I’m ace.”

“Huh?” 

“God, you are a fucking moron,” Ray muttered. “Ace. As in asexual. No, I don’t reproduce like a plant. No, I’m not, like, scared of sex or anything. I’m just not sexually attracted to anyone. Never have been, never will.”

Gavin raised his eyebrows, but stayed silent. 

“Anyway,” continued Ray, “I’m also panromantic, I think. Took a shit ton of Googling, but I’m pretty sure that’s a thing.” Michael shot him yet another questioning look. “Jesus, do I have to explain everything to you idiots? Means I’m, and I quote, _‘romantically attracted to people regardless of gender.’_ Happy?”

Gavin shrugged. “That’s cool. So, you love people, but you don’t want to...”

“Do, uh, stuff with them. Oh, you know what the fuck I mean.”

Michael was still trying to process the fact that the two of them had been queer the whole time and neither of them knew. Not even a hint. What were the freaking chances of that? Hundreds of late nights on AIM, finger hovering over the send button like it would launch a nuclear airstrike, and this happens? 

“So... this whole time, I could have fucking told you and you wouldn’t have cared?” Michael choked out. “All that time worried about what the fuck you would think and you were in the same boat?”

“Yeah?”

“God _damn_.” 

Gavin busied himself with scribbling something down in his notebook.

“So.. what do you guys even do here?” Ray asked into the awkward silence, pulling out his phone. “Talk about boys? Braid each other’s hair? Suck each other’s-”

“No!” Gavin interrupted, ears flushing red. “Christ, you’ve got a dirty mind for an asexual.”

Ray snickered. “Hell yeah, I do. But seriously. What the fuck is this club even for?”

“Honestly? Not a clue,” Gavin sighed, shutting the notebook. “If there were just more members, maybe we could get some good discussions going or make awareness posters or _something_.”

“Well, what did you do last week, then?”

Michael and Gavin exchanged glances. 

“Not.. much,” said Michael. “I had to leave early, anyway. We just talked, I guess?”

“Hey, I’m down for that.” He waited a beat, frowning. “So, what’s up with that new Halo leak?”

Michael laughed. “Dude, I don’t know about you, but I think it looks fucking _awesome_.”

“But did you see those bloody awful graphics, though? I dunno, it looked a bit dodgy to me...”


	3. (when the sun sets, it upsets)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, readers! So holy shit, we hit 100 kudos already, which is absolutely insane. I am incredibly grateful for all your comments, kudos and bookmarks- but most of all, I’m grateful that so many of you can relate to the characters and the story, it means the absolute world to me. The next chapter may take a bit longer to write because of Christmas and all that jazz, but it will be much longer, chock-full of loads of new characters and maybe even some Mavin! ;-)  
> Hope you enjoy! <3  
> -E

Michael was seriously starting to regret letting Gavin sit with him and Ray at lunch.

“So, like, what if all the air in the world was just suddenly replaced with water?”

“I swear to God, Gavin,” Michael groaned. _If I have to sit through one more of these stupid fucking questions..._

Ray just looked stumped, furrowing his eyebrows. “I dunno, dude. I think we’d all just die.”

“No shit, Ray.”

Gavin pouted, his question pretty much unanswered. “Alright, then, I see how it is. You two just don’t fully appreciate my genius.”

“Says the guy who _just yesterday_ asked us if rocks floated on lava,” countered Michael, chuckling.

“Oi, that was a valid question! I had a geography quiz and we’re doing material on volcanoes, so-”

“Excuses, excuses, you’re still a fucking dumbass,” Michael laughed. Gavin’s mouth fell open in mock anger. He took a grape from the container of fruit cocktail on his tray and chucked it at Michael’s face, where it bounced off his cheek. Michael retaliated by tossing a blueberry, which hit Gavin square in the eye. 

“Ladies, ladies, break it up,” Ray said, chuckling. “Or else this might turn into a full-scale food fight.” 

He was met with a chunk of watermelon to the forehead.

 

* * *

 

The October air bit straight through Michael’s thin jacket as he trudged through the school’s parking lot, Chromeo blasting at full volume through his earphones. 

It was far too cold to walk home, but he had no other choice. He’d missed the bus- Mr. Burns had held him back after school ended and confronted him about his apparent ‘attitude problems’ in History, which was total bullshit. All because he occasionally dozed off during the lectures and forgot to do his homework maybe once or twice, and he got that stupid _“you’re a good enough student but you just don’t make the effort”_ spiel that he’d gotten used to over the years. God, that guy could be such a douche sometimes. Michael had no idea why he chose to become a teacher, of all things.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by something loud enough to be heard over his music, which was unusual. Someone was... yelling. Curious, he pulled out one earbud.

“Hey, faggot!”

A million thoughts whirled through Michael’s head, most of them different variations of _I am so fucked._

He turned, ever so slowly, not wanting to look because _somehow, someone’s found out, and oh God, I am going to fucking kill Gavin-_

Three jocks in bright red letterman jackets were swiftly approaching him, laughing to themselves with cold, narrowed eyes. _God, this is like something from a shitty 90’s movie._

Michael knew they were football players, kids in his grade, but he didn’t remember their names- it wasn’t like they’d ever had a reason to talk to him before. 

One was built like a tank, square-jawed and stocky and exactly the kind of guy Michael didn’t want to mess with. The next was thin as a post, and he seemed to have an ugly sneer permanently stuck onto his face. The last was harder to place- he walked with a leader’s stride, hair gelled perfectly, everything about him screaming _trust fund baby._

Michael forced himself to eye them steadily rather than running the fuck away like his brain was telling him to. 

“Excuse me?” he snapped, the malice catching in his throat. 

Trust fund dude rolled his eyes. “I said, hey, _faggot_. Or did you not hear me through your gay little ears?”

Michael squinted. _These dudes are fucking idiots._ “What does that even mean?”

The guy bit his lip, searching for a comeback, but the thin one laughed. “Saw that you’re hanging out with that fag Free. You two suck each other off in the janitor’s closet, or what?” The trust fund guy snickered at that.

“Yeah,” grunted the big one, stepping forward menacingly. “Guess you’re a little faggot now.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Michael said, backing up. _Get the fuck out of here,_ he told himself. His feet weren’t working. He could only stare back at them and try not to lose his composure.

The thin one ignored him. “You’re gonna go to Hell, you know. Didn’t you ever read the Bible?”

That stopped Michael’s heart for a second. Not for the first time, he became painfully aware of the cross hanging silver from his neck. 

He swallowed. “I’m- I’m not gay.”

“You sure about that?” the trust fund boy simpered, sidling forward so that he stood face to face with Michael. He dropped his voice to a mocking murmur. “Didn’t your momma ever tell you it was wrong to like boys?” 

“For the last time, I’m not fucking gay!” Michael spat, the lie causing his voice to crack a little. “Go fuck yourself, you pampered, bigoted asshole. This isn’t the 1940’s anymore.”

He realized he shouldn’t have said that when the leader beckoned for the big one to step forward. A thought formed in his brain before he even knew what was happening.

_That sure does look like a fist._

Then something was colliding with his face. 

Black spots danced in his vision and _holy fuck, that hurts way more than the movies make it look like it does, Jesus, is he the Incredible fucking Hulk or what?_

He looked up into cold, dumb eyes and wheezed, staggering backwards. Instincts were taking over his movements, adrenaline pumping something wild through his veins. 

“Go to Hell,” he snarled, tasting the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. He threw himself at the big guy, which in hindsight was a shit decision. His feeble attempt at a punch was met with a hard shove to the chest, then a kick to the shins, then-

“What do you think you’re doing?” came a voice, low and cold and sharp. Michael looked up, sight blurred and hazy. The blows stopped, and he dropped to the ground, heaving. He quickly assessed the damage- _Nose bleeding, probably nothing broken, bruise to the stomach, scraped knee..._

Someone had entered the fray. He was tall and broad- probably a senior- and had a prince-like, rugged look to him, letterman tied loosely around his waist. He pushed the other guys out of the way and bent down over Michael, looking him over with worry creasing his eyes. 

“You okay?” he asked, extending his hand. Weakly, Michael grabbed it and hauled himself upright, dusting himself off. 

“I guess,” he replied quietly, but the guy turned away, shaking his head. He marched over to the attackers, fury ablaze in his expression.

“You three, you’re lettermen. You’ve got a fucking _standard_ to uphold,” he scolded, and the three of them visibly shrunk under his stern gaze. “You can’t just go around beating random kids up for no good reason. What are you, animals? Now scram, assholes. Before I get Coach to kick you off the damn team.”

They left pretty quickly, shooting Michael dirty glares as they half-ran out of the parking lot and through the front gate. 

The stranger turned back to Michael, giving him a quick once-over. “So could you tell me what the Hell that was all about?” 

For some reason, he felt like he could trust the guy. He seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. So, what else was he going to say but the truth?

“They, uh,” he rasped, wiping a streak of blood from his chin, “they were calling me gay, or whatever. Like, you know, every single teenage boy ever. They weren’t being very creative with their insults.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, and then I called one of ‘em a ‘pampered asshole’ or something, ‘cause I’m a fucking idiot like that. And then.. well, you saw the rest.”

The guy frowned. “Yep. Actually, I saw you guys from a window backstage in the theatre, so I came running out of rehearsal to see what was going on.”

“Theatre?” Michael asked, gesturing to his letterman. “Thought you were a jock.”

He shrugged. “Why can’t I be both? Football’s fun, acting’s fun, I don’t give a shit.” He glanced at his watch, grimacing. “Speaking of acting, I’d better get back to rehearsal- Mr. Heyman’s gonna kill me, I’m the lead in the damn play. You gonna be okay on your own? Need a ride home, or something?”

Michael shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks...” he trailed off, never given a name.

“Ryan,” he finished. “And, you’re welcome. You can talk to me if they give you any more trouble, okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael muttered. “Sure. See you around.”

Ryan waved, then jogged back to school. Michael winced as he bent down to grab his headphones, which had been knocked to the ground during the spat. He slipped them back in his ears, but the synthetic beats and drops were a little too peppy for his mood, so he killed the music, groaning inwardly as he realized he still had to get to his house somehow. _I probably should have just asked Ryan to drive me._

The silent walk home was really fucking painful.

 

* * *

 

 “Um, I came out to my mom last night,” said Ray casually as he took his seat in Mr. Hullum’s classroom that Thursday afternoon.

Michael almost fell out of his chair. “You _what?_ Holy shit, dude, how’d it go?”

Ray smiled toothily, mouth running at a mile a minute. “So, we were just chilling, watching some CSI, whatever, and out of the fucking blue she switches the TV off and starts saying shit like “I think it’s time we have a little talk,” and right away I know I’m getting ‘The Talk’, _trademark_ , which is just fucking funny to me because I don’t need it, and she was talking about contraception and shit, so she got real mad when I started laughing, and then I just blurted it out.”

Ray was glowing, eyes shining and crinkled from his grin. He’d been quiet and pensive all day, and now Michael knew why- he waited until the meeting to tell them. 

“And then what?” Gavin prompted. “What did she say? I’m guessing it was top by the way you’re smiling.”

“She was.. surprisingly cool with it,” Ray gushed. “Of course, she didn’t know anything about asexuality or romantic orientation, but I explained it to her and she did some Googling and, well, it’s all fine, I guess. I’m just glad I didn’t have to sit through the freaking sex talk.”

Their laughter was interrupted by a knock at the door. 

Gavin’s eyes lit up. “Come in!”

And _what the fuck,_ wasn’t that a surprise. The guy that cautiously stepped into the room was yet another familiar face.

“Um, hi,” mumbled Ryan, the theatre/football/hero guy that saved Michael’s ass a couple days ago. He looked uncertain, standing stock-still in the doorframe, usually-perfect hair ruffled and backpack hanging precariously from one broad shoulder.

Gavin laughed. “Hiya, I’m Gavin. The one in the hoodie is Ray, freckles over there is Michael. Welcome to the queerest club this school’s ever funded. What’s your name?”

“Ryan.”

As Gavin and Ryan quickly went over the basic principles of the club, Michael watched Ray closely. His eyes had gone wider than the damn moon, and Michael could swear they were fucking sparkling. His gaze was set directly on Ryan, who had pulled up a chair.

“So I guess this is the obligatory talk-about-your-sexuality bit, right?” asked Ryan. 

Gavin nodded. “But it’s cool if you’re still, like, questioning or whatever.”

“Oh, not at all,” Ryan assured. “I’m bisexual, definitely. And you guys...?”

“Gay.”

“Gay.”

“Panromantic asexual, at your service. Need an explanation? ‘Cause I’m used to it, really.”

Ryan frowned. “No, no, I get it, don’t worry. So, are y’all out, or-”

“I am!” Gavin exclaimed, far too proud of himself for his own good. _If you could stop rubbing your perfect family life into my face, that’d be great,_ Michael thought, staring at the ground to hide his scowl. 

Ray beamed. “I told my mom, and that’s kind of it, but no one’s ever really brought it up before. So, whatever.”

Ryan looked at Michael, concern in his eyes. “And you, Michael?”

“Nah. Family’s religious, so, y’know. Can’t really do anything about it.” 

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

“I’m sorry. Man, that’s awful,” said Ryan, biting his lip. “I just wish I could help somehow.”

Michael waved him off. “Nah, it’s fine. They don’t really need to know, anyway.”

“If you’re sure.”

A tense silence followed. _Please, someone, change the fucking subject._

Ray rolled his eyes. “We’re all attracted to dudes. Glad that’s settled. So, classic debate, who’s more attractive: Robert Downey Jr. or Chris Evans?”

 

* * *

 

Later that night, an AIM notification popped up on Michael’s laptop screen, the window obscuring the History paper he was supposed to be writing.

**BrownMan:** dude i think i’m having a romantic breakdown

**BrownMan:** what the fuck dude why do people have to be attractive it’s not fair

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**???????

**BrownMan:** why was a greek fucking _god_ gracing the club meeting today

**BrownMan:** i swear to fucking christ he’s gotta be some kinda angel sent from above it’s just not fair AND HE’S ALSO A GOOD PERSON?? HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** you mean ryan? aren’t you ace tho??

**BrownMan:** from an aesthetic standpoint, he’s hot OKAY

**BrownMan:** and from a romantic standpoint, i want that man to cuddle me into fucking oblivion  

Michael laughed, remembering how Ray’s eyes had sparkled when Ryan came in. _Like a fucking anime or something._

**BrownMan:** I’VE GOT SO MUCH PENT UP ROMANTIC FRUSTRATION HELP ME OUT HERE

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** holy shit dude i don’t know what to tell you..? 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** idk just ask him out or something. what could possibly go wrong?

**BrownMan:** why the FUCK would i do that 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** well you like him dont you?? jeez

**BrownMan:** i mean.. i’ve known him for all of two hours, so

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** riiiight, yeah, i see your point

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** idk you should ask for his AIM or his number or something so you two can actually chat and stuff

**BrownMan:** dude that’s a really good idea

**BrownMan:** i bet his screen name is something really fucking dumb and cute

**BrownMan:** like, ‘byebyebi’ or ‘biyanhaywood’ idk

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** HAHA OH MY GOD

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** you gonna change yours to _panromanticasexualcismale_ or is that too long?

**BrownMan:** youre a dick

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** you are what you eat ;-)

**BrownMan:** jesus, dude

**BrownMan:** you are such a fucking virgin istg

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** SAYS THE ASEXUAL.

**BrownMan:** fuck. touche.  


	4. (there's hope out the window)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Happy 2015! So sorry this took so long, I really wanted to get this out way before New Year’s but Christmas happened and I was hella busy with family and stuff. Hope y’all enjoy this chapter (and the delicious, delicious mavin)! <3  
> -E

Mr. Hullum wasn’t a very formidable figure. He was sort of a teddy bear, really, the absent-minded professor type. Sure, he was a great English teacher, but discipline wasn’t really his area.  Michael had to admit, though, seeing him still sitting all serious-like at his desk when him, Gavin, Ryan and Ray arrived for their weekly meeting was kind of a strange sight.

“Mr. Hullum? What are you doing here?” Gavin asked, head tilted. 

He smiled, standing up. “Just wanted to check on how the club was doing. You know, since it’s hosted in my room and all.” 

“Right. Well, I’d say it’s all been top so far!”

The English teacher sighed. “I don’t know, Mr. Free. It’s only the four of you, correct?”

“Um, yeah...?”

“Look,” Mr. Hullum said solemnly. “I love the idea of the club, it’s a great opportunity for learning about diversity and equality- but if you don’t have at least ten members within the next two weeks, I’ll be forced to shut it down, or at the very least let straight kids join as well.”

Gavin’s face fell. “But- Mr, Hullum, please-”

“I’m sorry, Gavin. Those are the rules. You still have two weeks.” The teacher smiled sadly, grabbing his briefcase from his desk. He waved goodbye as he left the classroom, door swinging shut behind him.

“Well, that’s shite,” Gavin muttered, taking his seat. “Can’t believe it. What a stupid policy.”

Ryan frowned. “Well, it’s only the four of us. We can always just meet at a place outside of school.”

“But that undermines the whole _purpose!_ The point of this club was to prove that even though we’re a minority, we’re still a presence in the school...”

Michael ignored their heated conversation as he heard something- like faint footsteps. He strained his ears. There were voices, at least four, echoing through the English hallway. 

“..Come on, Geoff. Lets go, just this once. It’ll be fun,” pleaded one gruff voice.

Michael froze. _Geoff._ To his knowledge, there was only one person named Geoff in the entire school- Geoff Ramsey. He was kind of a legend. A million different rumors about him circulated the student body, some more believable than others. Some said he was a tattooed, punk delinquent with few prospects and even less self-respect, others claimed he was just a prankster with a heart of gold. Michael had even heard someone say he was a crack dealer.

But all agreed that he was a certified badass and was not to be messed with. _So what is he doing here?_

“It just sounds like it’ll be a couple of fuckin’ kids talking about their feelings,” said another one, presumably Geoff. “It’ll be stupid and useless and boring.”

“Hey, you don’t know that,” countered another, this one female. “This’ll be a great experience for you. You need the support.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what I need. I’m good, I _told_ you.”

“You’re eighteen, living with your girlfriend and failing out of high school. I don’t think you’re _good_.”

The voices got closer and closer until one of them knocked on the door. Gavin’s head snapped up, his and Ryan’s argument forgotten. 

“Come in!”

And in they came, all four of them- which was kind of a big deal, considering that they doubled the size of the group. 

Geoff stood scowling to the side, arms crossed. He arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. Standing next to him was a stocky ginger boy with a huge smile on his face, and a tall senior girl with bubblegum pink hair and a wide grin. And the last... _oh, no. Fuck, not her._

The last was Lindsay Tuggey. He was staring at her. She was staring at him. _Well, this just got a fuckton more awkward._

Gavin’s eyes got really, really wide at the sight of them all. 

“Urm... hi,” he said. “..Welcome?”

The pink-haired girl grinned. “Hi! You’re Gavin, right? I’m Meg. Meg Turney. Sorry we didn’t join earlier, Lindsay and I were doing field hockey at the same time as this and we couldn’t just _quit_ \- but then Ryan was talking to Lindsay about it during rehearsal and, well, we just _had_ to check it out. I hope it’s as great as he said!”

Michael glanced pointedly at Ryan, who just shrugged. 

“Right,” said Gavin. He gestured to one of the tables. “Let’s sit down, then!” 

They finally had a reason to use an actual table instead of just sitting in a loose circle of chairs. 

Hell, it almost felt fucking official for once.

“So, if it’s alright, it would be lovely if you all could quickly introduce yourselves and maybe tell us why you’re here.”

Lindsay coughed. “Yo. I’m Lindsay, and I guess I’m here because I’m, like, a huge, raging lesbian-”

“What?” Michael interjected, mouth hanging open. “You’re fucking kidding.”

“Wait, you’re not-”

“Yep. I’m gay, too.”

Lindsay gaped. “So, as freshmen, at that dance- were we... unintentional beards?”

“Holy shit. We totally were.”

The room was silent, and Meg took her cue. “So I already said my name already. I’m here because, as a bisexual, I obviously care a lot about queer rights and stopping homophobia and transphobia, especially in, like, high school.” She nodded at the stocky guy who was sitting next to her.

“I’m Jack. I guess you could kind of say I’m the straightest one here- I’m asexual and heteroromantic. Uh, I don’t even know if I’m really queer enough to be here.”

Ray laughed. “No worries, dude. It’s totally cool. And, hey, I’m ace, too. We can be the dynamic dick-hating duo! Buddies against blowjobs. Friends opposed to fucking.”

The group erupted into laughter. Even Geoff, who was looking at his phone, managed a chuckle. 

Jack brightened up immensely. “Thanks, dude.” He elbowed Geoff. “Your turn.”

He rolled his eyes, pocketing his phone. “So, I’m Geoff and I’m only here because Jack dragged me along. To be perfectly honest, I really don’t wanna be here.”

“Geoff,” sighed Jack. “Come on.”

“Fine, fuck you. So I’m pansexual, and I don’t really give a shit about it. It doesn’t even matter.”

Gavin frowned. “Well, it’s great that you’re comfortable with your sexuality like that.”

Geoff laughed a husky laugh, bitterness fueling the fire. “Yeah, well. It’s all fan-fucking-tastic unless you’re seventeen and your dad’s choking the life out of you because he looked through your fucking internet history and saw ‘pansexuality’ as a search term.”

The room went silent and still. Michael held his breath, but he was collapsing, and Geoff kept talking, and Michael couldn’t help but picture his own dad’s hands around his neck, his own mom’s disappointment.

“Because we’re in Texas, y’know? Soon as my mom left us, my dad went batshit crazy for Christianity. Fucking preacher, dragged me to church every Sunday and all that horse shit. He was already pissed enough that I was smoking and inked. But man, I didn’t think it was that bad, right? And one day, a year or so ago, I just came home from school and there he fuckin’ was, and he just looked so disappointed, and I was worried that he found out I cheated on my Spanish final or something.” Geoff laughed again. “Well.. you can pretty much guess where that went. Lots of yelling, a couple of bruises, and I just packed everything up and left. Thank God for Griffon- my girlfriend. She’s in college, so I moved in with her- but Christ. I’m not even gay.” 

A tense silence filled the room. 

“That’s fucked up,” Ryan muttered. “Seriously.”

Geoff smirked, but his eyes were expressionless. “Pretty much.”

The rest of the meeting was subdued, but it did involve actual, proper discussions about queer issues, unlike all of the previous meetings, which was nice. Meg in particular seemed to be in her prime, pretty much leading the debates. Geoff didn’t contribute much, but Michael figured he’d divulged enough of his private life already.

And just like that, it was 4:30 and everyone was leaving. Gavin approached Michael after everyone else had said their goodbyes.

“Wanna walk home with me, Michael?” Gavin sounded quieter than usual, more pensive. Maybe it was Geoff’s confession that soured the mood. 

“You live near me?”

“I think you’re on the way, yeah.” 

“Sure, why not?”

Michael ignored the fact that he knew Gavin lived on the opposite side of town. 

 

* * *

 

The walk home was oddly silent. Scarily silent. 

The October air was frigid, cool wind whispering down their necks. Gavin still looked thoughtful, hands stuffed in his pockets, an uncharacteristic frown upon his face.

“You okay?” he finally asked, and Gavin jumped, apparently lost in thought.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. Just- I’m fine.”

Michael waited a beat, more questions waiting on his tongue, but something about Gavin’sdemeanor didn’t seem right, and he did not want to get on his bad side by bothering him or anything.

Gavin took one hand out of his pocket ever-so-casually, and then-

_Um._ Michael’s brain short circuited. It was like he couldn’t process what he was seeing- it just didn’t make any sense.

Something was touching his hand, something soft and warm and unfamiliar- then it was clutching, squeezing, _clasping_ and _what the fuck what the fuck what the-_

Gavin was holding his hand.

Gavin was _holding his hand._

_Holy fuck Gavin Free is holding my hand get out of there get out get out-_

Michael jerked backwards, ripping his hand free. This was not happening. This couldn’t be real.

“ _Um_ ,” was all he could say, all he could choke out. Gavin looked mortified, a red flush creeping onto his cheeks and nose. 

The silence was thick and terrifying and- Michael couldn’t piece it together. Why would Gavin hold his hand? The only reason would be if-

If Gavin liked him.  Liked him _like that_. And it was fucking preschool shit- liking someone, having a _crush_ \- and Michael didn’t know what to do other than stare, shocked.

Gavin was stammering. “W-well, oh God, shite- I didn’t mean- oh, Michael, I’m sorry-”

But why would he like him? Like that? They’d known each other maybe three or four weeks. 

This wasn’t how it happened in movies, there was build-up, there was pining and writing names in the backs of notebooks and friendly flirting and _actually knowing each other outside of Spanish and one fucking club._

“Gavin- I- what the fuck?” Michael didn’t mean to sound so rude but what the fuck _else_ are you supposed to say when your friend tries to hold your hand, right? 

He had to be objective about this. Gavin was... well, Gavin was Gavin. There was no easy way to really describe him. He wasn’t unattractive- ignoring the nose, obviously, he was definitely... Michael didn’t want to say _cute_ , but somewhere alone those lines. And he was fucking hilarious and ditzy and liked video games and he was just so ridiculous... but Michael could never imagine any sort of relationship with him. Hell, he hadn’t even considered him as his _friend_ until a couple of weeks ago. Something more was simply ridiculous. But still... high school was for experimenting, right? If it didn’t work out, so what? 

_Fuck, fine, I’ll give it a shot. Ray won’t let me hear the fucking end of it if I don’t._

“Oops?” Gavin offered, smiling sheepishly and running his hands through his hair. “Oops, you’re sort of cute and nice and funny and all that? Er, oops, d’you maybe want to-”

Michael sighed, extending his arm and wiggling his fingers. “Shut up and hold my hand, idiot.”

Gavin squawked. “ _What?_ Really? You really-”

“I said shut up. We can talk about logistics later. Stop your blabbering and hold my fucking hand while you walk me home, asshole.”

“No blabbering. Got it.” He saluted with his free hand.

 

* * *

 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** sooooo. hi.

**GavinoFree:** hiya

**GavinoFree:** so what’s with ur screen name???

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** pfft i was like 12 when i made this account and i dont want to bitch out by changing it

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** aaanyway. so. this afternoon. walking home. hand thing. can we talk?

**GavinoFree:** yeah. um. i like you? quite a bit?

**GavinoFree:** and it’s not just cause ur gay or anything. thought u were cute way before you told me

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** ...how long is ‘way before’?

**GavinoFree:** uh

**GavinoFree:** a couple of months? i never thought it would amount to anything

**GavinoFree:** speaking of... what are we? you wanted to hold hands and all but then you sort of ran off

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** sorry about that, this is all fucking new to me i’m sorry i have no idea

**GavinoFree:** but do you like me back, then?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** that was direct.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** well. yeah? i guess? i didn’t really think about it before today

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** but we can try it out? or something? i’m really sorry it’s been a fucking weird day

**GavinoFree:** no, that’s totally top, don’t worry!!! it’s bloody scary, all this

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i don’t even know what to think?? we’ve only known each other for like a month fucking christ

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** but i do want to try at least?? god, this is so fucking weird. are we dating now? what’s even happening? who do we tell? how am i supposed to hide this from my parents?

**GavinoFree:** slow down a bit! we can work it all out later- maybe actually talking in person will be better

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** yeah. yeah, definitely. i’m just a little worked up because holy shit this is actually happening?? like i didn’t exactly expect this??

**GavinoFree:** sorry for springing this whole thing on you like that 

**GavinoFree:** i’m pretty spur-of-the-moment if you couldnt tell already

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** yeah, well, i’ve come to expect surprises from you.


	5. (of my disorder, of my condition)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, it’s been a while, sorry about that. But hey, in this installment: Team Building Exercise! Trans representation! Dumb nicknames! All around adorkableness! Hope y’all enjoy! :-) <3  
> -E

“I still can’t believe you’re dating him,” Ray muttered as they made the long journey from the cafeteria to their lockers.

“Fuck, neither can I.”

It was true. He’d pored over that AIM conversation about a hundred times before it ever sunk in. He was dating someone. _Actually dating someone_. 

Alright, so they hadn’t gone on a date yet. Or, like, held hands. But that didn’t matter. It was nice to feel liked.

“So how did you do it?” Ray asked. “Get the guy in four weeks. What is this, a fucking sitcom?”

“Shut up,” laughed Michael. “I have no friggin’ clue. I barely know him yet- but he is kind of adorable, so we’re trying it out.”

“You two are pretty cute together,” Ray said, smiling. “The whole polar-opposites thing. It works.”

“Yeah, well, it also makes me want to strangle him sometimes.”

“D’aw. That’s adorable. But, hey, I’m making some sweet progress with everyone’s favorite theatre jock,” Ray declared, grinning. “Took a while, but I actually struck up a real conversation with him. Turns out he needs someone to run lines with for the play or whatever, so we’re hanging out tomorrow after school.”

“Sweet, dude! Hey, what is the school play, anyway?” Michael asked, opening his locker and grabbing his Spanish textbook.

“ _Romeo and Juliet_ ,” said Ray. “Ryan’s Romeo. He’s _really_ worked up over it, actually.” He paused for dramatic effect, wiggling his eyebrows. “And he needs a partner, so I volunteered, and I’m just excited for some quality time, y’know?”

Michael smirked. “Well, here’s to hoping you get some action soon, ‘cause God damn, you two together would be _unstoppable_.”

“Ace, remember? The only action I’ll be getting is when I kick ass at Halo.”

“Oh, you know what I mean, Juliet.”

 

* * *

 

 As it turned out, Ryan needed help with his lines suspiciously often. Michael hadn’t walked home with Ray in about a week- it was almost every day now that he rode home in Ryan’s secondhand Chevy. Michael didn’t begrudge him for that, though. Ray was happy, and that was all that mattered.

It was one of those days that, while walking alone through the emptied halls after school, Michael heard something that chilled him to the bone.

“Holy shit, look at those two faggots!”

To be perfectly honest, his first instinct was to run. Leave, run along back home to the safety of your room, let whatever was going on play out without him.

But the voices that answered back were too young, and high-pitched, and terrified, and Michael had to go and fucking save them because... well, who else would?

He skidded down the hallway, bag almost slipping off his shoulders as he followed the sounds of voices. 

That’s when he found two tiny freshmen pressed up against a locker by a couple of leering sophomores. 

“Aw, look at the tiny little fags,” snickered one of them. “Aren’t they just adorable?”

“Fuckin’ queers,” muttered the other. 

One of the kids swallowed. “I- I’m sorry- we just-”

He was slammed into the locker, and something clenched in Michael’s stomach.

“Hey, hey, what the hell are you doing?” he yelled, staring the sophomores directly in the eyes. “Get the fuck out of here, assholes.”

One of them narrowed his eyes. “Yeah? What if we don’t? What are you gonna do to us?”

Something burning raced through Michael’s veins. _Now’s your time,_ a voice in his head goaded. _Time to rage like you’ve never raged before._

The movements came to him easier than he’d expected. He was fluid, fists flying, the world seemingly frozen in time. 

Or, to put it simply, he punched the guy right in the fucking face. 

“Now get lost,” Michael spat. The sophomores did just that, tripping over themselves as they ran out of the hallway.

He turned to the kids, still backed up against the lockers. They were so tiny- was Michael really that small just two years ago? “You guys okay?” he asked, rubbing his knuckles.

They peeled themselves off the lockers, dusting off their oversized jackets. “Yeah,” said one hoarsely. “Yeah, we’re okay, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” the shorter one murmured, biting his lip. “It was my fault.”

The taller one elbowed him. “No it wasn’t, Jeremy, come on.” He turned to Michael, frowning. “I don’t get it. We didn’t do anything wrong- we were just holding hands, and then they came, and- and-”

That’s when it dawned on him- these kids really didn’t understand homophobia. They’d genuinely never experienced it before. They were so innocent. 

And Michael would have to break their damn hearts by telling them all about _the real world_ and why God Hates Fags and why boys couldn’t wear skirts and why he still wore a fucking silver cross around his neck. Why man shall not lie with man and why man can’t even _marry_ man, why they’d never be able to donate blood or kiss in public or get any kind of freaking support from adults.

Why they’d get taunted and teased and pushed around for the rest of their high school years, all because they held hands once.

But instead of saying that, he cracked a smile somehow, bending down to their level.

“Hey, listen. Those guys were fucking jerks. Look, some people, they don’t like people like us, God knows why. And I guess that might be something you’re gonna have to get used to, because as far as I know, they’re not gonna stop any time soon.”

“People like us,” the taller one repeated softly. “You’re...”

“Yeah.” Michael sighed. “But you guys, you’re not alone, okay? You two doing anything on Thursday afternoon? I have some people I want you to meet...”

 

* * *

  

Just as Michael expected, the two freshmen did turn up at the meeting on Thursday, along with who he presumed were their friends. Joining them was an uncomfortable-looking girl- was she a girl?- with a pixie cut and high cheekbones, swallowed in a too-big hoodie, and a slightly taller boy with light brown hair, wire-framed glasses and an easy smile. They awkwardly took their seats on the furthest end of the table. _Damn, this room is filling up fast._

Gavin was in his prime now, grinning widely. “Oh, brilliant! We’ve got more than ten people now, this is top! Mr. Hullum can suck it. Alright, first things first- roll call.”

“Gavin, please, don’t,” Michael protested, glaring. Geoff was rolling his eyes already.

“Aw, come on, boi! I thought of all these funny nicknames and everything- I’ll have you know, it took me all of eleven minutes!”

“Fuck, fine, whatever. This is a stupid idea.”

Gavin ignored him. He took out his notebook and flipped to a certain page. “Okay. Michael Jones, our resident freckly gay emo?”

Michael’s head snapped up. “Seriously? Fuck you.”

“Hey, you still love me,” Gavin shot back with a smirk. “I’ll mark that as present. Erm, shockingly Caucasian ace boy?”

Ray snickered. “Yo.”

“Badass bisexual-”

Not one voice but two answered that call. “Here,” chorused both Ryan and Meg, shooting each other bemused glances.

“The infamously lazy pansexual punk?”

“Sup,” drawled Geoff, leaning back in his chair.

“L as in Lesbian, but also as in Lindsay?”

“Heya! _Love_ the alliteration, by the way,” Lindsay laughed. 

Gavin bit his lip, running his finger over the page. “Hm, who’ve I forgotten, then? Oh, yeah. Right. And, finally, Jack.”

“What, I don’t get a title?” asked Jack, frowning.

“Nah.” Gavin waved him off. “Right, so we’re all here. First order of business- new members!” He turned to the four younger students. “And you are...?”

“Jeremy,” said the short one. “Uh, I’m gay as far as I can tell. So.. yeah.” He nudged his boyfriend- were they boyfriends? Michael didn’t want to jump to conclusions or anything.

“I’m Matt,” he said. “Yeah, I’m gay too. And, we’re, uh, dating, so...”

Jeremy sighed. “Yep. I mean, it kind of sucks because pretty much everyone in our grade hates our guts right now, but whatever, it’s fine, we’re dealing.”

Michael doubted that, but no one pressed any further.

Next was the kid with the glasses. “Sup, I’m Kdin- yeah, that’s my real name, shut up- and I don’t really know what I am. I mean, girls are hot, dudes are hot.. I’ve just never really found the right label, I guess.”

Gavin smiled amiably. “And that’s fine! Don’t feel pressured to know exactly who you are yet- even though we’ve got all these massively long and complicated labels, you don’t have to.” Kdin beamed at that.

The girl- was she a girl?- coughed quietly, and everyone turned to look at her. “Um, hi.” Her voice was nearly silent, barely a murmur. “Uh. Sorry, it’s just- this is kind of hard to really... say?” She turned to Kdin, Matt and Jeremy, a hopeless sort of look on her face. 

Kdin put his hand on her arm. “Hey, it’s okay. You can tell them.”

She swallowed. “Um.” She stopped and took a breath. “Sorry. So, uh, my name’s Caleb.”

Gavin’s eyes got really big. “Sorry, er, what? Thought you were...”

“My name’s Caleb, and, uh, I’m a guy,” she- no, _he_ said, exhaling. “I mean, I’m.. trans.” He mumbled the last word, but the room was so quiet it was like he was screaming it. “And that’s why I’m here, I guess. Because my parents are _alright_ with it I guess and Kdin, Matt and Jeremy have been _great_ but it’s just hard when everyone else- from my teachers, to my classmates, to my passport- still thinks my name is Karen.”

Meg leaned forward. “So, how has that been for you personally? Like, have you been bullied about it? How do you feel?”

“If anyone wants to hurt you, I’ll gladly kick their ass,” Lindsay chimed in with a feral smirk.

“No, no-” Caleb sighed. “Uh, I’m good, but thanks. I guess- I haven’t exactly been bullied, like, in the traditional sense, but, um, I get all these weird looks and people just constantly tell me I’m a girl but I’m just not, you know? I’ve never been a girl. I haven’t just _become_ a boy because I felt like it. And I think I can take it, but it’s just so much. Everyone’s saying _she, her, girl,_ and it’s so hard to freaking live with. I don’t think I’ve gone a day without being misgendered. It’s just- just something I have to get used to. And I have really great friends, so there’s that, at least.”

“Oh, wow, dude,” Ray breathed. “That’s- huh. That must be awful.”

“Well, I try to stay positive. At least my parents are okay with it- I can’t imagine what I’d do if they didn’t accept me.”

Geoff and Michael locked eyes for a split second, both sighing imperceptibly, as the room erupted into rampant discussion.

* * *

 

Michael burst through the door just as his mom was setting the table.

“You’re late,” she reprimanded lightly as he slid into a chair.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He scratched his head. “Ray and I got a little carried away with this new game he got.”  
“Hm.”

She disappeared into the kitchen right when his dad came downstairs, shoes clacking on the wooden floor. He smiled amiably, but all Michael could think about was Geoff’s story, and hands around his neck and a hand around his wrist, a voice in his head whispering _they will never look at you the same._

He could just tell them, right now. About Gavin, about the club, about all of it. Where he really went on Thursday afternoons, why he’d never been one to talk about girls, and why he only mouthed the hymns in church. It would be too easy, to let it all just...

_Come out._

Too bad it wasn’t that simple.

So said Grace under his breath and asked calmly for the salt, and cut his steak into tiny little pieces, but all the while full to bursting with _I’m gay, I’m dating a boy, I think I’m wired wrong, I’m terrified of you, I’ve never been your good Christian boy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._


	6. (take it, don't take it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! First of all, holy shit- this story already has over 2000 hits! That’s absolutely insane. I never expected this story to get as big as it did in so little time. I’m incredibly grateful for all your comments, kudos and bookmarks <3 Hope you enjoy this chapter (be warned: here be copious amounts of Mavin) !!  
> -E

Their lunch table had gotten a Hell of a lot more crowded over the past month. 

At first, it had just been Michael and Ray, pushed to their place at the very edge of the cafeteria, sharing nerdy inside jokes and talking about games and being generally lonely. Then Gavin had joined them, bringing his stupid questions and endless enthusiasm, while Ryan alternated- some days he would sit with his football teammates, and others he would press up next to Ray as the lone voice of reason and logic in their mindless chatter. 

And one day in mid-November, they were greeted by the entire group of club members already seated at their table when they got there, caught up in a discussion about the newest episode of _Always Sunny._

Geoff was teetering in his chair, looking surly as usual but pausing every so often to comment, not touching his food. Meg and Lindsay were comparing pictures on their phones, giggling, and Jack and Ryan were debating fiercely, somehow managing to eat and argue at the same time. Caleb, Matt and Jeremy were at the end of the table, surrounding Kdin, who was aggressively mashing buttons on his 3DS.

“Uh... what’s going on?” Ray asked, staring wide-eyed at the crowd of people that had amassed at their otherwise almost empty table.

Lindsay looked up and grinned. “Well, we decided to eat with you guys now that we’re all friends. Y’all looked a little lonely. That gonna be a problem?”

“Um... no?” Ray squeezed in between Ryan and Geoff, picking at his fruit cocktail. Michael and Gavin sat down gingerly beside the two girls, balancing their trays of food on their knees to make room.

And, yeah. It was that simple. The pair grew to a trio grew to an actual _group_ in less than two months.

For the first time, Michael Jones kind of had a family.

 

* * *

 

“Remind me what we’re doing again?”

“Aw, Michael, we’re going on a date, remember? Didn’t we just go over this?”

“Yeah, but... McDonald’s? Really?”

Gavin sighed, pushing open the door to the fast food chain. “Look, my mum is being a pissy little pisspot right now, so I wasn’t going to just ask her for money, now, was I? I know it’s not _exactly_ the best place for a first date-”

“Well, no. What happened to, like, picnics or any of that cute bullshit?”

“Shut _up_. I’m not really the romantic type, alright? Jesus.”

Michael snickered. “I don’t imagine so, no. Hey, it’s cool. I’m always up for over-processed chicken nuggets and shit.”

They strode up to the line, grinning like idiots at each other. And then Gavin tried to grab Michael’s hand, _again_. He slapped the fingers away, eyes widened in panic. 

“ _Dude_ ,” he muttered, crossing his arms as the line inched forward.

“What?” Gavin tilted his head innocently. 

“Not here.”

“Why? Relax, Michael.”

He ran his hand through the tangled mess of curls on his head as Gavin ordered for the both of them, palms already beginning to sweat. Michael wasn’t one to get nervous over anything. _So why the fuck am I so goddamn scared right now?_

Once they got their crappy cheap food, they took their trays to a table for two in the very corner of the chain. 

Gavin twirled a fry between his fingers, smiling almost secretively. 

“So,” he started. “How are things?”

Michael groaned. “You see me every single day. What do you want me to say, I have this really tough English project I have to work on?”

“Jeez, you’re touchy,” Gavin laughed. “Well, I dunno! What do you want to talk about?”

Michael was silent. Gavin was also silent. They stared deeply and stony-faced into each other’s eyes, squinting. 

And promptly burst out laughing. 

“God, we’re a fucking mess,” Michael said, snorting. 

“Yeah, that’s us,” Gavin agreed. He sucked salt off his finger, looking at Michael quizzically. “Is it weird if I tell you that I think we’re gonna last?”

Michael almost choked on his chicken nugget. “Huh?”

Gavin shrugged. “I dunno. Sort of stupid, but I think we work bloody well together. I’ve dated people before, y’know- but that was back in England, like, three years ago. But none of them were serious. I think you might be the actual one.”

Michael had to stop himself from laughing. _Naive, adorable idiot._ “Yeah, okay, sure.” He paused. “So, I’ve never actually dated anyone before- if you don’t count Lindsay, but that was never really a date.”

Gavin smirked. “Does that mean I’ll be your first kiss?”

Michael felt the blood rush to his face, flushing his cheeks pink. “...Maybe?”

“Aw, that’s adorable!” Gavin squealed, grasping Michael’s hands from across the table. He barely stopped himself from cringing away from the touch, reminding himself _no one here knows you. It’s all fine. No one’s going to-_

Turns out he spoke too fucking soon. 

Because sitting across from him was that one guy- the trust fund jock asshole- that had something fucking against him, and he was staring at them. Staring at their hands, interlocked, clasping, grasping, all of a sudden too tight _too tight_ -

The moment Michael saw those eyes narrow and that smile curl he knew he was screwed eight ways from Sunday. The guy got out of his seat, hand running over the brim of his snapback, and headed towards them, but Michael didn’t even register it, because he was sinking, and sinking, and Gavin’s fingers gripped his wrists too tightly, and he was so, so, _so_ fucked.

“So, you _are_ a faggot,” came the sneer, and _there_ was the raised eyebrow. Gavin’s fingers finally, finally let go. 

“Excuse me?” demanded Gavin. “What did you just say?”

“Gav, _don’t_ -” Michael murmured, but there was no stopping the oncoming train wreck. No stopping what would happen.

“I called him what he is, and what you are,” said the guy. “Just facts.”

Michael stopped listening and concentrated on breathing- it was just so hard to keep going when the sky was caving in and everything was going to shit, and everyone would find out about him and they’d give him either pity or punches and _to Hell with bravery_ , Michael was goddamn fucking terrified and stone-cold shaking.

He didn’t remember the rest of it, except Gavin leaving him at the bus stop, fuming, and the bus ride home, and trying not to break down on public transport or in front of his parents when he told them he’d gone to an arcade with Ryan, and then he was in his room with no idea what to do.

Without thinking he picked up his phone and called the first contact he found. He sat on his bed, holding himself tightly, as it rang.

“Yo...?”

There was silence as Michael tried to talk, tried to at least whisper out a hello, but there was a lump in his throat the size of a jawbreaker that he couldn’t seem to swallow.

“Michael? Hello? You there?” Ray asked quizzically. 

God, Michael wanted to rant. He wanted to rant and rage and scream, and all that he could muster was a choke of a sob, and he was fucking gone. He was gone and he was crying now, burning hot tears dripping from his eyelids and rolling down his cheeks. 

“I- I’m sorry- I just-”

“Michael? Holy shit, dude, are you okay? What happened?”

_No no no no no–_

“I- uh, oh God. I fucked up, I really, really fucked up,” he managed to force out, everything catching in his throat and everything crashing down on him. He was screwed, so royally fucking _screwed_.

“Was it Gavin? You guys went on a date tonight, right?”

“Yeah,” Michael whispered through the block in his throat, scrambling for breath, for his voice, for something that wasn’t black or heavy or chaos.

“Seriously, man, what’s wrong? Did he do something?” Ray paused. “Did... did someone find out?”

“Y- yeah.”

“Was it your parents?”

“No, no, it, uh, it was some popular kid in our grade, I don’t even know his name but- but he’s going to tell everyone about- about us, and about me, and I’m just so fucking _terrified_ of what might happen-”

“Whoa, hey, calm down,” Ray said quietly. “It’s gonna be okay. No one’s going to treat you any differently-”

“But they will!” Michael protested. “They will, and don’t you dare give me that inspirational TED-Talk bullshit, because you know it’s not fucking true.”

Ray sighed. “Look, it’s not gonna get any better unless you believe it will.”

“You can...” Michael trailed off, his phone letting out three drawn-out beeps as the call ended. “Talk.”

He felt a surge of panic and terror again and he curled up on his bed in a fetal position, screwing his eyes shut. _He’ll tell everyone and someone will fuck me up and someone will complain to the school and my parents will find out and they’ll kick me out or cry or shout and I’ll end up like Geoff and oh God this is so bad I fucked up so so bad-_

Maybe there was something really, horribly wrong with him. Maybe his parents, his pastor, the kids in his grade- maybe they were right. They were right all along. Everything about him was so, so _different_ and _wrong_ and _terrible_ \- he was a monster, he was a fag, he was an eraser shaving, all that was left of the beautiful little boy his parents had drawn up and painted pure white. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He couldn’t be painted over, couldn’t be forced to First Communion or expected to date a cheerleader. And they’d tried and tried to erase him, erase the mistakes and the scribbles and the misplaced lines, but all they did was rip the paper. 

Something cold brushed against his chest, sending shivers down his spine and constricting his neck. He took a laborious breath, reaching up to unclasp the thin chain draped across his collarbone, and the cross fell to the ground and it felt like freedom. It felt like he could finally _breathe_.

There was a sudden knock on his door, and he jumped out of his skin, rubbing his face with his sleeves to wipe away the dampness on his cheeks. “Michael?” his dad yelled. “We’re watching a movie downstairs, if you want to come down and watch with us.”

“Leave me alone,” he croaked out, hoarsely and far too loud, hands clenching. “I just- I’m doing something.” It was so hard to force words out, and so casually, when his emotions were bubbling and his throat ached from holding back tears. 

“Alright, son. You okay in there?”

God, he actually sounded fucking concerned. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry.”

When he heard the footsteps fade out as his dad went back downstairs, Michael buried his face deeper into his pillow and let out a frustrated yell into the soft fabric, curling up again and trying to block out his own thoughts. That’s when he started counting from zero. It was a technique he learned in some bullshit anger management therapy session his parents took him to a couple of years ago, but it was the only thing he had left.

Three hundred and eighty eight seconds later, his computer let out a short trill.

Groaning, Michael dragged himself up and sat at his desk to see what it was, knees tucked under his chin.

There was a chat window open, the notification coming from a name on his Buddy List that he hadn’t seen since he infamously asked her via AIM to the Winter Social two years ago. Lindsay Tuggey, with the same cringey username that she’d had since middle school. _Oh, God. What the fuck does she want?_

**KittensAreKool:** so ryan told me about the thing with you and gavin. 

**KittensAreKool:** want to talk about it?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** uhhhh 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** wait, how the fuck does ryan now about it?

**KittensAreKool:** i assume you told ray, andobviouslyray told him. duh. they’re practically attached at the hip, where have you been?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** whatever. and i don’t really want to fucking talk about it, no. 

**KittensAreKool:** god, boys are so stoic. i can tell you want to rant. tell me what’s wrong.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** uuugh. fine. god, it sucks.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i don’t know. we were just eating and then this guy- i think he’s in the football team?- came up to us and saw we were like holding hands or whatever and i didn’t really get a chance to gauge his reaction or anything but then i started hardcore panicking and ran home 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** you know that thing we learned about in Health last week? the panic thing?

**KittensAreKool:** you mean an anxiety attack?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**...yeah i think i had that maybe i dont know i couldn’t really breathe

**KittensAreKool:** yikes. are you okay now, though?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** better, i think

**KittensAreKool:** that’s good. hey, whatever happens, you have a ton of friends that’ll always support you. 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i guess. 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i’m sorry for being such a whiny bitch about this but i’m just so worried, yknow? just.. the whole school will know by monday. that’s kind of fucking terrifying. and then my parents might find out, which i can’t even comprehend?? like that would just destroy me, i think. it might actually kill me.

**KittensAreKool:** ah. right.

**KittensAreKool:** i’m so sorry, i really don’t know what to say.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** it’s fine. just.. good to rant, i guess.

**KittensAreKool:** i told you it would make you feel better!!

**KittensAreKool:** tell you what,i’ll be your own personal defense squad! everyone’s pretty terrified of me anyway. i have no qualms with kicking some jock ass. 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** thanks, linds. really. 

**KittensAreKool:** that’s what friends are for, right?

**KittensAreKool:** :-)

 

* * *

 

Three unread messages waited patiently on Michael’s phone as he slept, the vibrations not waking him.

**[10:04:19 PM] Gavin <3:** i’m sorry, that was a really shite excuse for a first date. next time, i promise it’ll be a picnic.

**[10:06:33 PM] Gavin <3: **are you asleep already or something? oops.

**[10:15:10 PM] Gavin <3: **i hope you’re alright. see you on monday! <3 <3 


	7. (it will never happen again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, amigos! We hit a ton of milestones- 3000 hits, 50 bookmarks and 300 kudos, which is absolutely incredible and nothing I would’ve ever expected. Thank you guys so, so, so much. Also, a reminder (or, shameless plugging): if you have any questions about the fic, you can hit me up on tumblr (rqmanoff) or twitter (@luckybrow3)!! And if anyone has any music recs that would go well with this fic, please tell me in the comments so I can add it to my ever-growing TMK playlist! Hope you enjoy. Love you guys! <3  
> -E

School on Monday was Hell. There was no other way to describe it. Fire and brimstone. The whole shebang. 

So the news had spread, then. Fan-fucking-tastic. 

It was kind of like there was a rainbow-tinted spotlight pointed directly at him at all times. All eyes were fixed on him. Conversations broke off into stunned silence and concerned whispers when he walked near. 

_Fucking Hell, it’s not like I have cancer._

He jumped as he felt a hand grab at his shoulder, and turned to see Ryan standing all intimidating over him, arms crossed. 

“What do you want?” he spat out with a little too much vinegar.

“Lindsay asked me to make sure you were okay,” Ryan said sincerely, frowning. “She said something about a ‘Michael Jones Defense Squad’?”

“That sounds super fucking gay.”

“Appropriate, then.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Shut up. I don’t need protection.”

Ryan eyed the crowd surrounding them. “That’s a lie and you know it. Come on- you’re in McCormick’s homeroom with Ray, right? I’ll walk you there.”

Michael sighed and relented. But even Ryan’s red letterman didn’t stop the whispering.

“Did you hear? That Rage Quit guy’s totally fucking Gavin Free.”

_We’ve been dating for like three weeks, asshat._

“Did you hear? There’s this kid in my History class- I think his name’s Michael- Blaine told me that he’s gay, but, like, he doesn’t _look_ gay, so I don’t know.”

_Sexual orientation doesn’t have a fucking dress code._

“Did you hear? So you know Michael in our grade? Oh my God, he’s _totally_ dating Gavin Free and aren’t they just the cutest couple ever? Like, they’re so brave, right? It’s just like in Glee!”

_Yes, we’re cute. No, we aren’t fucking straight girl accessories, and no, dating a guy does not make me brave. Leave us the Hell alone._

“Did you hear? There’s a new fag in this school. Isn’t that disgusting? I think he goes to my church. Feel bad for his parents, having to deal with that shit.”

Michael didn’t have an inner retort to that one.

Ryan dropped him off at his homeroom with a clap on the shoulder and a weak smile.

“Stay safe,” he said softly, heading back down the hallway.

_Yeah, it’s that fucking easy._

 

* * *

 

Lunch was maybe worse. 

Michael didn’t want to risk the wrath of the stretching line for the cafeteria’s crappy pizza, so he sat at their usual table, twiddling his thumbs. 

“Hey, Michael!” Meg exclaimed, sliding in to the chair next to him. “What’s up?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t you heard? I’m the school’s newest gay scandal. The hottest gossip in town.”

“Oh, yeah, Lindsay told me about that. It’s gotta suck, being outed like that. You okay?” she asked. 

Michael was so fucking sick of people asking if he was okay. He knew they all knew he wasn’t. 

He was saved from having to answer by Jack and Geoff, who sat down opposite them, trays clattering on the table. Jack smiled warmly at Michael. Too warmly.

“I heard someone outed you to the school,” Jack said, frowning. “Are you okay?”

Michael had to stop himself from audibly groaning. “I’m _fine_. Jesus.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, but didn’t prod, and took a bite of his pizza. Michael couldn’t help but notice Geoff’s ink-patterned fingers twitching and his eyes watching Michael almost too intensely.

Ray, Lindsay and Caleb joined them, chatting about some movie. But when they saw Michael, they quickly grew silent.

Lindsay tilted her head. “Hey, Michael. What’s kicking?”

He glared at her. “I think you fucking know.”

Caleb grimaced. “Dude, are you-”

“Will people just fucking stop asking me if I’m okay for one fucking _second?_ ” he snapped, a little too loudly. The entire cafeteria seemed to go silent. He could practically hear the heads turning, feel the eyes fix onto the back of his head. 

_Get out of there get out of there get out-_

His stomach rolled, his intestines became an Olympic gymnastics routine, his head became a fucking dartboard for sharp-edged comments shot straight into his ears. 

As he half-ran, half-skidded out of the cafeteria, he locked eyes with Gavin, still standing in line. Gavin scrunched his eyebrows together inquisitively, mouthing _what’s wrong?_ Michael sighed and looked away, rubbing his temples. He didn’t need him. He didn’t _want_ him, especially after what happened. Talking to Gavin would just make everything worse.

At least that’s what he told himself.

 

* * *

 

That day, for the first time in a goddamn age, Ray walked home with Michael. 

Well, he _said_ they were walking home, but Ray turned left too early, went too far down the winding suburban streets. Michael didn’t say anything, just walked silently beside him as they reached a familiar, abandoned playground a few blocks away from Ray’s house.

They used to hang out there, together, in seventh grade- just kids being kids. Of course, then they got into video games and Xbox Live and AIM, and they stopped going. They were too old for creaking swing sets, anyway.

“Uh, why are we here, exactly?” Michael asked. Ray said nothing, only sat down on one of the swings, feet dragging in the sand. Michael joined him.

“So...” Ray started quietly. “I don’t want to ask if you’re okay, because I already know the answer. You’re not. Of course you’re not.”

“Uh. What? Dude, I’m-”

“Fine?” Ray laughed. “No, you’re not. You’re a shitty liar, you know that? This whole situation kind of boned you. You had a freaking panic attack. That’s not a normal thing, alright? And, hey, we’ve all struggled, man. Things have been hard for all of us. But you- it’s all you ever talk about. And I get it, I do, but you’ve gotta stop overthinking these things. It’s not like it matters- it’s not like you being gay changes _anything_ about you, y’know?”

Michael sighed, collecting his thoughts. “I know. I- I’m sorry I’ve been dramatic and shit lately. It’s just...” He paused for a second. Lindsay said it was good to rant, right? Did Ray even care? He put his head in his hands as he continued, his swing swaying slightly back and forth. 

“You don’t get it. I never _wanted_ to get any kind of attention for being like this. I’m a goddamn stereotype, for Christ’s sake. Poster boy for _Gay Struggle_. I wanted to keep it a secret, but now my entire fucking life now revolves around my sexuality and I just.. I just want to be normal again. For once. I want to just have a conversation with my friends- with anyone- that doesn’t involve coming out or my boyfriend or the fucking LGBTQ club, alright? Because now everyone knows and it’s all they goddamn care about, so it’s all they ever talk about. _“Oh, Michael, when are you going to come out to your parents?” “How does it feel being laughed at and looked down upon every goddamn day?” “What do you think about the systematic marginalization and erasure of your sexuality?”_ Fucking Christ, I just don’t care anymore. I don’t _want_ it to matter.” He took a deep breath. “Can’t we just talk about Bioshock or Halo or something? Like we used to?”

Ray looked stricken. “Dude. Fuck, _dude_. Sure. Yeah. Sorry, it’s just- damn. I can see why they call you Rage Quit.”

A laugh tumbled out of Michael’s mouth. “Well, you know how it is.” 

“Hey, have you played Burial at Sea yet? I don’t know if it’s worth buying.”

“Oh, it definitely is. There’s this bit when-”

“Holy shit, shut _up_ , don’t spoil it!”

 

* * *

 

Three days. Michael got three days of bliss, talking about nothing but video games and ignoring the names and not even mentioning the word ‘gay’. He hadn’t talked to Gavin. He just wasn't ready. The discussion surrounding him had pretty much died down- now all everyone was talking about was how some kid in Michael’s History class had decided to wear a skirt to school that day.

And running away from his problems was great- until the consequences caught up. And by consequences, Michael meant a determined Ray Narvaez Jr.

“Listen,” said Ray, exasperated, as they walked back to their lockers after Math on Thursday. “You gotta come to the meeting today, man. Don’t bitch out.”

“And talk to Gavin, and have everyone ask if I’m _okay_ for the billionth time? No freaking way,” Michael retorted. “I told you, I’m done with it. The whole goddamn thing.”

Ray pouted. “Please? Meg told me we’re just watching some movie- no discussions, no nothing, just some good old melodramatic queer representation. It’ll be fun.”

Michael sighed. “Fine, fuck, whatever.”

He didn’t want to admit it, but he had grown pretty attached to the club. It was kind of his responsibility, in a way. It had started off as something stupid, just a way to kill an hour- it wasn’t like he actually gave two shits about queer issues. But then it had gotten kind of _big_ , and people actually started joining and talking. It was where he first really met Gavin. The dumb LGBTQ+ club was where he met pretty much all of his current friends.

Which was kind of pathetic now that he thought about it. Or a sickeningly sweet teen movie cliche.

Or both.

So Michael and Ray rocked up to Mr. Hullum’s classroom ten minutes early, expecting to resume a previous argument about whether either of them could take on Donkey Kong in a fight, but were instead greeted by two guys in their grade already seated inside- one in a skirt and the other drawing incredibly accurate dicks on the whiteboard. The skirt dude had spiky brown hair and an infectious smile, while the other one was fragile-looking, with a cherubic sort of face framed by shaggy, dirty-blond hair.

Michael coughed. “Um... You guys are here for the club, right?”

The guy in the skirt- Michael thought his name was Miles- grinned. “Yep. I’m Miles, he’s Kerry. You’re Michael, right? _Everyone_ was talking about you, which I thought was totally crazy, ‘cause you’re definitely not the most abnormal person in the school. So, I thought, what better time to debut my flagrant genderfluidity to the general public than to draw attention away from an innocent gay guy, right?”

Ray’s jaw dropped. “Uh, what?”

Miles laughed. “I’m genderfluid. Means sometimes I’m a dude, sometimes I’m a chick, sometimes I’m neither. It’s cool, you can use male pronouns or whatever, I’m not really picky. I mean, today’s kind of an in-between day. Yesterday was a girl day, and who knows? Maybe tomorrow’ll be a macho-man day or something.”

Kerry stepped away from the whiteboard and threw his arm around Miles’ shoulders. “What they’re _trying_ to say is, they wore a skirt because they have some weird hero complex and wanted to protect you or something.”

Michael didn’t know what to say. “Holy- Holy shit, dude. Wait, can I call you dude?”

“Go for it, I’m pretty chill.”

“That’s, well... I don’t really know how to thank you.”

“Ah, it’s no biggie. Needed to tell them somehow, right?”

The door opened again, and in piled the majority of the club, already caught up in rapid-fire conversation. Miles perked up, and him and Kerry made a beeline for Gavin as everyone else took their places around the table.

“Hey, so, you’re the president of the club, right? Is it too late to join?” Miles asked, all puppy-dog eyes.

Gavin looked taken aback, but smiled nonetheless. “Uh, yeah, of course! We never turn anyone away.”

“Great!” Miles’ enthusiasm was apparently boundless. “So, I’m Miles- I’m genderfluid.”

“Um, what are your preferred pronouns?” Meg interjected from her seat.

“Oh, they, them is good, but I don’t really mind. It’s an in-between kinda day today. I’ll just let you know if that changes,” Miles said. 

Gavin smiled appreciatively, then turned to Kerry. “And you?”

“Kerry. I- uh, I’m aromantic. ‘Cause, like, no romo, right?” he joked weakly. Ray laughed and high-fived him. 

They fit right in.

Meg started up the movie on the projector, some straight-to-DVD rom-com with a couple of gay protagonists, a clueless sidekick and no bullies at all. Michael hated every sappy fucking second of it, but he caught Gavin’s wistful expressions and happy sighs during the syrupy love scenes. And Ray and Ryan kept on watching each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

Michael sighed as the credits rolled and everyone got up to leave, muttering goodbyes and discussing the movie. Gavin looked like he was going to approach him for a second, but then shook his head almost imperceptibly and left with Meg and Lindsay.

Michael didn’t go after him. He still hadn’t replied to the three texts gathering dust on his phone. 

 

* * *

 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** hey, gav.

**GavinoFree:** oh. hi

**GavinoFree:** care to explain why u’ve been avoiding me like the plague lately?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i’m sorry. i’m an idiot. it’s just

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i dont know. i’m just fucking scared

**GavinoFree:** i get it but like.. 

**GavinoFree:** i dont think youve ever taken this seriously

**GavinoFree:** am i right..??

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i guess you are. i’m sorry

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** it’s just i havent known you for the longest time and i.. idk. im not sure if im ready. 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** you’re way too good for me. you’re brave as fuck, you stand up for yourself, and you handle shit so well

**GavinoFree:** don’t say that. don’t you ever fucking say that michael jones

**GavinoFree:** you are a bloody wonder 

**GavinoFree:** like, really. youre so passionate and funny and just

**GavinoFree:** dumb idiot jersey idiot

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** ohhhh ummmm

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i’m kinda hardcore blushing rn

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** thank you???

**GavinoFree:** awh ur so cute

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** pfft ur cuter

**GavinoFree:**??!?!?!?!!!!!

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**...i guess this is my way of saying i’d like to maybe try again?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** maybe??

**GavinoFree:** bloody hell why didnt you just say so you arseface

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** fucknugget

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i’ll see you tomorrow lmao

**GavinoFree:** night, mikey wikey!!

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** dont call me that. 


	8. (and all join hands)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. Sorry this took so long. Monty’s passing hit me really hard and I couldn’t write for a while, but then I realized he would have wanted all of us to keep creating and doing what we love. I hope you guys are alright after everything that happened. If you need to talk, you can always send me an ask on my tumblr (rqmanoff) and I’ll try to help you out as best I can.  
> So this chapter’s a little different in that it’s a bit more fragmented, and it’s basically like four little vignettes rather than a proper linear plot. Prepare yourselves for stupid Shakespeare puns and clueless idiots in love (hint: they’re not mavin). Have a really great day, and happy reading! <3 (PS: it would be super cool if y’all suggested some music that would go well with this fic so that I could add it to my writing playlist uvu)  
> -E

The November wind bit deep and cruel through Michael’s thinning hoodie and tousled his curls as he got out of Gavin’s mom’s car, wicker basket in hand.

“Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Free,” he said, Gavin already grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him away.

“You’re very welcome! I’ll pick you two up at three,” she said, a wry smile so similar to Gavin’s on her face. She waved goodbye before driving off, leaving the two of them alone in a stretching field with nothing but a picnic blanket and a basket of snacks.

Perfect.

“Told you we’d go on a picnic,” said Gavin, laying down the red-checkered blanket on the grass. “Probably not the best day for it, but when is it ever? And it’s totally deserted, so we’re not going to have to deal with any bloody football players interrupting again.”

Michael hummed a noise of agreement, kneeling on the grass and rummaging through the basket. He pulled out a can of Coke and popped it open while Gavin set out paper plates with tiny ham sandwiches cut into triangles.

So they talked for a while, about trivial things that were on their minds, staining the knees of their jeans in the grass and shivering in the cold. There was a slight lull in the conversation, though, and Gavin coughed, probably trying to be subtle. Michael turned his head and raised an eyebrow.

“Can I kiss you?” Gavin blurted out, immediately covering his mouth when he realized what he just said. Michael stiffened. “I- erm- I just-”

Michael took a deep breath. _Relax. You’ve been dating for a few weeks now, it’s only natural that this should happen. And it’s just a kiss._

Except, it wasn’t. Kisses meant love, or at least something serious. Kisses made it _real_. He could still play off the whole thing with Gavin as a joke, or a deep friendship, or just dicking around. Kissing him was something he couldn’t exactly erase. 

But he couldn’t stop himself. Gavin just looked so eager and scared and pleading, the pale sunlight hitting him at just the right angle that it didn’t matter, none of it mattered, and Michael was so fucking gone. He looked so beautiful, so goddamn terrifyingly beautiful, and Michael softened. He had to accept it. He was dating a boy, and he thought he was cute and funny and ridiculous- and he was head over fucking heels. _Fuck it. No going back now._

So instead of answering, he pulled Gavin’s head closer, fingers tracing his jawline.

“You sure about this?” Gavin whispered, breath warm on Michael’s numb cheeks. “Because we can always stop.”

“Nah, nah.” Michael swallowed. Gavin’s fingertips trailed, white-hot on his knuckles, following the path of his veins along his forearm, dragging it out. “I- _fuck_ , just fucking kiss me already, idiot.”

And then there was something soft on his lips, and holy shit, Michael was _so_ not prepared for it. He leaned in, careful to balance in just a way that their noses wouldn’t bump together- and wasn’t that a feat. It was hesitant and slow and maybe too eager, but something warm was coiling in the bottom of Michael’s stomach. It tasted like a secret he didn’t want to keep anymore.

“You’re amazing,” he breathed when they pulled away, eyes half-lidded.

_You’re beautiful,_ he thought. _You’re everything I needed and more, you’re indomitable, you’re the sun, you’re something not even stupid metaphors can accurately describe and I think I might be in love with you, and that sounds dumb, and I wish I could tell you everything._

Gavin only laughed in response.

 

* * *

 

After school one Tuesday, Ray met up with Michael at their lockers.

“Hey, you should come to the _Romeo and Juliet_ rehearsal today,” Ray suggested, drawing out his English textbook. “Ryan’s making me go and I don’t wanna be the only non-thespian there.”

Michael snorted. “What the fuck is a thespian? Is that, like, another name for a lesbian, or-”

“No, you fucktard. Though, incidentally, Lindsay is both,” said Ray, grinning. “It’s a fancy name for a theatre person, or something. I don’t know, Ryan uses it a lot.”

“Oh, yeah, Ryan,” Michael laughed. “Right. Y’know, you should really ask him out. You two practically eye-fuck every meeting.”

“Please, the most I’d allow is eye-cuddling.”

“So when are you two finally going to bang? Wait, shit, sorry. _Not_ -bang. When are you going to not-bang?”

Ray groaned. “Dude, it’s not that easy, okay? Just because he’s bi doesn’t mean he likes me like that. You and Gavin just got lucky. And it’s just a stupid crush, I won’t let it get in the way of our friendship. Which, by the way, is totally blossoming.”

“Whatever you say, man,” said Michael. “And yeah, sure, I’ll come, my parents are at some church thing all day anyway.”

“Sweet.” They started heading to the theatre, against the flow of students leaving. “Hey, did you know that Kdin’s in it?”

“What?”

“Yeah! He’s Tybalt, I think. And Miles is Mercutio. Oh, and Kerry runs tech. So that means we know, like, five people in the play, with Lindsay and Ryan.”

“Wait, so who plays Juliet?” Michael asked.

“Some senior called Barbara. Her and Ryan have, uh, _great_ chemistry on stage,” Ray muttered.

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

“Ha ha, shut _up_.”

They pushed through the doors to the school’s ridiculously plush theatre- possibly the only amenity the board actually spent some money on. Gathered on stage were about twenty students, stretching and chatting while the director, Mr. Heyman, was deep in discussion with Kerry. 

Ryan, Lindsay and Miles were laughing about something with a tall blonde girl, who Michael assumed to be Barbara. Him and Ray got to the group right as she finished her story.

“So then I said, that can’t be _l-eagle_ ,” she exclaimed, an expectant grin on her face. Everyone groaned.

“Barb, you can’t be fucking serious,” sighed Miles.

Lindsay rubbed her temples. “Get the fuck out, Jesus.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows as he spotted Ray and Michael. “Hey, look who joined the party.”

Ray shrugged. “Came to watch the magic happen.”

Barbara laughed. “Yeah, it’s really, uh... _magical_.”

When he saw Ray’s confusion, Miles stepped in. “What she means is, it’s been kind of a mess lately. I mean, what with our Paris quitting and our very casual rehearsals, we’re pretty behind schedule. So not many of us really know our lines, except maybe Ryan, but Ryan’s, like, some kind of drama god.”

At that moment, Mr. Heyman strode onto stage holding a clipboard, and coughed quietly. Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing to gather around him in a loose circle.

Now, Michael had Mr. Heyman for Drama in sophomore year, and he wasn’t exactly the most.. _orthodox_ of teachers. But when he directing? It was a whole new level.

“So today we’re doing Act Three, Scene Three, so that means we need Romeo, Friar Lawrence and the nurse onstage. We’ve done this scene before, so you should all know what to do, but here’s a quick recap of what happens just in case.So Romeo is banished, he gets all angsty and sad about Juliet, the Friar plans to get him back to Juliet to consummate their marriage, blah, blah, then they go off and have romantic Shakespearean sex somewhere,” he said, rolling his eyes. Ray and Michael just looked at each other in surprise, wide-eyed and grinning. 

Barbara snickered. “Like... _a_ _Midsummer Night’s cream?_ ” She didn’t seem to notice the chorus of sighs and groans surrounding her.

Mr. Heyman tutted, though his mouth curled up into a smile. “Barbara, although I appreciate your quick wit, you’re here to act, not make puns. Alright, _places_ , everyone!”

 

* * *

 

It was a lazy gray Saturday afternoon when a rather peculiar message popped up on Michael’s laptop screen.

**BrownMan:** FUCK MICHAEL HOLY SHIT YOU’RE NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS

Michael clicked on the window, curious.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** yeah?? what

**BrownMan:** RYAN JUST ASKED ME OUT?????? 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** holy FUCK, DUDE, WHAT

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** wait 1 sec i’ll call you because this DESERVES a call

Michael picked up his phone and dialed Ray’s number, smiling uncontrollably. Ray picked up on the second ring.

“Bro,” Michael said gleefully. “ _Bro_.”

“Dude, I know.”

“How did this even- what..? Tell me _everything_.”

“I, uh, well-”

“Ray Narvaez Jr., if you don’t tell me how the fuck this happened in the next two seconds I will spontaneously combust, holy shit.”

“Alright, alright, dude, give me a chance to catch my breath!”

“Did you say yes?”

“Fuck, let me tell the damn story first, asshole.”

“Sorry, sorry, go on.”

“Ok, so it’s kind of a boring story, but, uh, he invited me over earlier to go over some lines because he’s been having some trouble learning some of the dialogue between Romeo and Juliet- like, the whole scene with the balcony- and he keeps saying it’s not natural enough, y’know? Which I thought was kind of funny, because he thinks I’m the most natural to practice a _freaking love scene_ with. But I just wrote it off and we did the lines and shit.”

“Wow, you’re really goddamn oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Shut up. Anyway, he keeps looking at me all funny, and I ask him what’s wrong, and he says it’s nothing, which I thought was totally bullshit. So I ask him again, and he reads this one line, and he says it’s, like, self-explanatory. So then I read over the line, and I didn’t really get it because Shakespeare was a confusing motherfucker-”

“Christ, what was the fucking line?”

“Wait, I wrote it down, gimme a sec- ah, right. So, he said “ _I am no pilot, yet, were thou as far as that vast shore wash’d with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise.”_ ”

“Holy fuck, dude. That’s romantic as dicks. Um, what does it mean, exactly?”

“Basically he said that he would, like, cross oceans for me or something. So then I started blushing and shit, and he looked so scared of what I’d say, and then he basically asked me out in the regular way and I said yes and, uh, I guess we’re dating now? Maybe?”

“Wow, fucking finally. You assholes have been dancing around each other for months now.”

“Wait, seriously? Was it that obvious?”

“Uh, yeah. I actually had a bet going with Gav on exactly when you two would get together. He had his money on after Christmas, but I fucking knew it would be earlier, so thanks, dude.”

“No problem. It’s a win-win.”

“Well, for everyone except Gavin.”

“That doesn’t count. He never wins.”

 

* * *

 

Michael thanked every God imaginable that Miles was having a very _male_ day when he came over one Friday afternoon to finish off a History project they were partnered on. He did _not_ want to explain to his parents why his typically male-presenting friend was wearing a skirt and mascara.

“Yeah, so we have to finish up this thing quick, like, before six,” Michael told him as they got through the door. He waved at his parents, who were watching TV on the couch.

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause you have that date tonight!” Miles exclaimed, far too loudly. Michael froze for a second.

_Ah, shit._

His parents turned to stare at him, mouths half-open. A stunned silence filled the room.

His mother was the first to speak- or, rather, laugh. “A date? My little boy has got a _date?_ After all these years? It’s a miracle!”

Michael scratched his head. “Ha, ha, yeah...” He looked pleadingly at Miles, who shrugged as if to say, _sorry, dude, you’re on your own._

His dad, so often serious, had an uncharacteristically large grin plastered on his face. “Aw, tell us- who’s the lucky girl?”

Michael blanked. “Um... _uh_. She’s just-” He fumbled over words for, like, thirty seconds before he finally thought of someone who probably wouldn’t get offended. “Uh, her name is Lindsay Tuggey.”

His mom squinted quizzically. “Isn’t she the girl you went with to that Winter Social thing two years ago?”

“Yep. We, er, made up. She’s really nice, and she’s in the school play, and stuff. Now, uh, Miles and I have to do that, er, project upstairs, so... yeah.” 

_That was the worst lie ever. Of all time. You fucking idiot._

Before he could say anything else that would completely ruin his life even more than it already was, he pulled Miles up the stairs and into his room, shutting the door behind them.

“Look, man, I’m so, so sorry,” Miles whispered, eyes comically large and hands wringing. “I totally didn’t mean to-”

“Dude, it’s fine, don’t worry about it,” said Michael, sitting down on his bed. “Something probably would’ve slipped out sooner or later. At least you didn’t let on it was with Gavin.”

Miles let out a tiny sigh. “Speaking of sooner or later... I’m worried about you. When are you, y’know, gonna tell them? Your parents, I mean. You can't hide this forever, man. It's just not right.”

“Ha, you know, I swear I’ve said this a million times,” Michael chuckled, a hint of bitterness rising under his tongue. “I just _can’t_. You know why. You heard what happened to Geoff.”

Miles bit his lip. “I... I guess you’re right.” He paused. “So, this history project’s a bitch, right?”

“Tell me about it. Burns is a _total_ asshole.”


	9. (swear to your parents)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Again, sorry this took so long- I have little to no experience with church or Christmas or anything of the sort, so you’ll see why I had to spend so much time on it. Please let me know if it’s not realistic or if it’s wrong in any way, I don’t claim to be Catholic!! Hope everyone’s having a good day, and happy reading! <3

Their first semester came to a close in late December, and a few days before Christmas Michael found himself stuck in his family’s car for a road trip that would take them twenty seven hours- plus pitstops and motel nights- while they drove from Austin to an uncle’s house back in New Jersey for the annual Jones family reunion, because of course they couldn’t just get _flights_ , oh _no_ , it had to be a ‘bonding experience’.

_Some bonding._

The car was silent but for the radio, volume turned down low. Texas flew by, all prairies and browned fields, faded cornflower sky stretching as far as the eye could see.

About an hour into the trip, Michael was officially bored of the radio’s crackling songs and the flat Texan steppes outside the window, so he slipped on his headphones and resigned to texting to distract himself. _Thank God for unlimited nation-wide plans._  

**[11:02:07 AM] Michael:** god i hate road trips 

**[11:02:36 AM] Ray:** haha sucks to be you 

**[11:03:11 AM] Michael:** well at least i’m going somewhere and not in my room playing video games 22 hours a day like some people 

**[11:03:47 AM] Ray:** ur just jealous of my sweet, sweet freedom

**[11:04:05 AM] Ray:** also fuck off im almost at 200k gamerscore im so close 

**[11:04:27 AM] Michael:** nerd

**[11:05:00 AM] Ray:** shut uuup stop distracting me from titanfall

**[11:05:25 AM] Ray:** go bug ur fucking boyfriend instead

**[11:06:27 AM] Michael:** ttyl?

**[11:07:13 AM] Ray:** yeah fine but jfc i just need to grind for like another half an hour to get this thing ok

**[11:07:45 AM] Ray:** now go forth and sext gavin 

**[11:08:03 AM] Michael:** good luck with ur shitty 5g achievement dork

 

**[11:10:13 AM] Micool <3: **WHAT IS UP GAVINO

**[11:11:09 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** NOT MUCH MICOOL

**[11:11:46 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** wait arent u on a road trip or something??

**[11:12:25 AM] Micool <3: **ye but i got service (nationwide, baby)

**[11:12:42 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** BABY????? ;-D

**[11:13:21 AM] Micool <3: **ahaha..... yeah? 

**[11:14:01 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** it’s just.. u’ve never called me THAT before and its kinda cute

**[11:14:26 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** *screenshots for blackmail*

**[11:15:33 AM] Micool <3: **FUCK I TAKE IT BACK I TAKE IT ALL BACK

**[11:16:00 AM] Micool <3:** cockbite. asshat. anything but baby

**[11:16:23 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** too late!! :-)

**[11:17:11 AM] Micool <3: **have i ever told you how much i fucking hate you?

**[11:17:26 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** so many times

**[11:17:49 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** but you still love me ;-)

**[11:18:03 AM] Micool <3: **yea

**[11:18:42 AM] Micool <3: **even if you do use noses in ur smiley faces, fuckbucket

**[11:19:11 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** ooh, fuckbucket, that’s a new one!

**[11:19:48 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** not as good as cockbite tho

**[11:20:31 AM] Micool <3: **nothing will ever beat the greatness that is cockbite.

**[11:21:07 AM] Micool <3: **cockbite will live forever in the hall of insult fame.

**[11:22:18 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** what about chicken chew?rooster teeth? cock-a-doodle chomp? 

**[11:23:12 AM] Micool <3: **nah, those are stupid.

**[11:23:59 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** what, and fuckbucket isnt???

Somewhere in between Tennessee and Maryland, they pulled over at a shitty motel to stay the night, and Michael fell asleep texting, his phone balanced on his nose. 

* * *

 

New Jersey sucked major balls, and not just because it _looked_ like a shithole. No, he had bigger problems than shady neighborhoods.

For starters, he fucking hated his family, and he hated their opinions, and their goddamn judgements- but most of all, he hated being stuck at Christmas dinner with them for a full four hours. 

He could not imagine a worse group of people to talk to. Thirty-or-so aunts and uncles and cousins, all asking too many questions and caring too little about the answers. Oh, and they were all mega-Catholic. Fucking _great_. Well, at least the food was good. It almost made up for the goddamn Guantanamo-level interrogations he got.

“Now, Michael, tell us,” one of his aunts said snidely, grinning. “How’s your love life? I’m sure such a lovely, _handsome_ boy like you just can’t keep the girls away!”

Michael smiled weakly, biting his lip and cutting his turkey into tinier and tinier pieces. “Y-yeah...” _Oh, this is gonna suck._

His dad laughed. “Son, no need to be embarrassed.” He turned to the rest of the table. “Michael here’s got his first girlfriend!” Everyone’s eyes lit up, and the whole family bubbled over with questions.

“Aw,” his aunt cooed. “Who is she? What’s she like?”

“Uh, her name’s Lindsay,” Michael said, too loudly. The table had gone completely silent- a goddamn miracle. “She’s into theatre, I guess, and she likes cats. Um, she’s really funny as well, and she has.. red hair?”

_Way to fucking embellish, asshat. That didn’t sound suspicious at all._

Luckily, the topic had moved to something more mundane before he even stopped speaking. Michael took the opportunity to sneak his phone out of his pocket and resume texting under the table so that he didn’t die of boredom.

**[6:37:09 PM] Michael:** ugh my fucking family is tryna make me talk about girls ahaha

**[6:37:46 PM] Michael:** jfc i have to pretend im dating lindsay this is so embarrassing

**[6:38:37 PM] Ray:** holy shit dude that is gold

**[6:39:22 PM] Ray:** i am so glad its just me and my mom chillin this year i dont think i could handle a bajillion puerto rican aunts and cousins hovering around me like last year

**[6:39:53 PM] Michael:** awwww you’re such a momma’s boy 

**[6:40:21 PM] Ray:** aha well i can’t really be a daddy’s boy now can i?

**[6:40:35 PM] Ray:** bc.. yknow....

**[6:41:29 PM] Ray:** ...probably shouldn’t have gone there but hey he was a dick (keyword: was)

Michael grimaced, and was about to reply when a snippet of conversation reached his ears that stopped his heart.

“...Yeah, did you hear? I have this friend, Martha, and it turns out her son’s _gay_.” The word was whispered almost dramatically, and the gaggle of cousins sat around the table either laughed or pretended to gag. Michael only looked down at his plate and struggled to take another breath. _Stop talking about this, stop stop stop stop-_

“Oh, Phyllis, what did she do? That must’ve been an awful shock,” said an uncle, shaking his head. “People like that... Well, God hammered ‘em out wrong.”

_Take another bite, Michael,_ he told himself, stomach rolling. He clenched his fists tighter around the knife and fork. _Pretend like you don’t hear them._ Tighter. _Pretend like you don’t give a fuck._ Tighter.

_Don’t you dare fucking cry._

He dropped the cutlery with a clatter, gasping for breath.

_Don’t you goddamn dare._

“Uh, sorry, have to go- to the, uh, bathroom,” he mumbled to no one in particular, pushing himself away from the table and out of the dining room, away from clamor and cacophony and _fuck, I fucking hate them, I wish I could run the fuck away, I wish I could stop feeling, I wish Gavin was here, I wish I wasn’t fucking worthless to them_ -

Michael knew from experience that he _never_ got what he wished for.

 

* * *

 

And then there was Christmas. 

He wasn’t even excited for it, not really- it wasn’t like he still believed in Santa Claus. It wasn’t like he still believed in God. And yet, he still let himself get dragged to mass on Christmas morning, bleary-eyed and bundled in a puffy jacket. 

Snow was falling in New Jersey, and they tracked footprints in white powder on their way to the church for Mass. 

His parents shoved him through the crowd and the towering wooden doors into the church, which was glistening with candles and decorations, stained glass windows making patterns that danced in ruby and gold on the marbled floor. They took their seats in the pews, and his parents were already chatting to a couple of wholesome-looking strangers behind them. 

Michael forced himself to grab a book of hymns instead of reaching for his phone, however much he wanted to complain to Ray or Gavin about how stupid this whole thing was. He flipped through the booklet, bored, but his eyes didn’t seem to register any of the words, so he resigned himself to staring sullenly at the pulpit. A woman was sitting at the baby grand piano up on stage and was softly playing Christmas music that tinkled and echoed through the hall, and Michael appreciated the peaceful sound that made its way to his ears past all of the clamor.

The priest came up to the stage a couple of minutes later, and as the piano music faded, the crowd fell into an anticipatory silence. He coughed and tapped the microphone on his stand, then smiled amiably, opening his arms. 

“Welcome, all of you. Whether you’re visitors or old friends, we all must gather to celebrate this joyous holiday. First, I’d like to start the ceremony with ‘Joy to the World’.” He nodded at the pianist, and those familiar chords started up. Everyone in the pews got up to sing, but Michael was only mouthing the words.  _Not like I have any fucking joy to sing about._

As the music died down again, the priest started the introductory rites, and all of those prayers and liturgies that Michael honestly almost slept through. 

He then started up on retelling the Nativity, complete with little jokes that roused uncomfortably meager laughter and asking the children questions about the story. After he wrapped that up, he began his sermon, solemn but booming, telling of generosity and self-sacrifice and God knows what else.

“Almighty God of change, God of what is new and what is coming to be, on this day, we want to rest with you in that timeless moment of your nativity in the mystery of your incarnation. Let your Spirit so comfort us today, so wrap us up in the swaddling clothes of your truth and compassion and mercy that we rest gently in your arms as a baby lying in a manger and know that there is time enough tomorrow for us to join you in changing the world.”

The priest kept talking through his sermon, but Michael was barely listening. Tension grew in his chest as the words washed over him, and God, Catholicism sucked _so_ _hard_ , and God, this was pointless and stupid and he was really goddamn screwed, wasn’t he? A gay kid with anger management issues sitting all placid and proper in a _church_ , of all places, pretending to pray. Oh, the fucking irony.

“As it says in John 1:5, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.””

_Pretty goddamn sure that the darkness is more powerful than you think._ Michael had the yellowing bruises on his back to prove it.

Michael squirmed in his seat, watching his mother’s eyes get wide and teary at the words. The overbearing silence in between the pauses of the preacher’s words was heavy on his back and he barely stopped himself from audibly groaning.

“Though this world may seem dark sometimes, it is not forsaken. During troubling times, we must seek the light of God to help us find our way, like how it showed the shepherds and the wise men.”

The ceremony finished with a hymn, one Michael didn’t recognize. _From Heaven Above to Earth I Come._ The bright and dancing lights from the stained glass were giving Michael a pounding headache, and the loud singing of a thousand Jersey Catholics wasn’t helping. To be honest, the tension in his chest had started to become full-blown anxiety, and darker thoughts were swirling in his head. 

The singing wasn’t helping. The hard seats of the pews weren’t helping. The glaring light leaving colored prints on his eyeballs when he blinked wasn’t helping. Thinking about how soft Gavin’s lips were in the middle of fucking Mass _definitely_ wasn’t helping, and he uncrossed his ankles subconsciously. 

“Thanks be to God,” the priest finished, and the crowd echoed. “God bless all of you, and have a very merry Christmas. Thank you.”

_Fuck off._


	10. (trade in our thumbs for ammunition)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exposition, exposition, more exposition... and a slight time-skip. Tensions are rising between Michael and Gavin, and Lindsay continues her crusade to get Michael to open up. Just a heads-up, updates will probably take more time from now on. The plot’s getting a lot heavier and chapters are gonna get longer (also I’m dealing with some personal stuff right now agh). Hope y’all enjoy! :-)  
> -E

At a club meeting in the middle of February, they reflected. 

They’d been having meetings for over six months now, and Mr. Hullum had told them it was important to take a look back at all of the work they’d done. He’d said _work_ like he thought they’d actually made a difference, which they didn’t- well, not a huge difference, anyway. But Gavin was always talking about how even changing one life counted as making a difference- so they took it upon themselves to appreciate the little victories. Emphasis on _little_. 

Kdin had come out as pansexual to his family and friends, and he’d dyed his hair bright purple. The hair thing wasn’t related, but it was still pretty cool. 

The school regulations had been changed so that bullying based on sexual orientation or gender identity was more harshly punished, but they all kind of had a feeling those rules wouldn’t exactly be enforced.

Caleb had finally started his transition process, with testosterone and binders and everything. They had yet to really see a change, but he was definitely so much happier, which was something.

Miles got beat up six times in eight weeks- they weren’t kidding when they said they’d draw attention away from Michael- and Jeremy twice- though he swore being thrown in a dumpster didn’t actually count- but Michael, Matt and everyone else had stayed relatively safe, so they called it an improvement.

Lindsay and Ryan had managed to convince Mr. Heyman to donate all the profits from ticket sales for _Romeo and Juliet_ to a youth shelter for LGBTQ+ kids, and rehearsals were going pretty well as of late.

Michael had continued to pretend to date Lindsay whilst actually dating Gavin, somehow managing to keep the secret from his parents- though he realized that his reluctance to come out was getting on his friends’ nerves.

They all knew it wasn’t going nearly as well as anyone had hoped.

But everyone had their way of dealing with it, Michael found. Everyone had a way out, a way to escape when the alienation and the pressure became too much. Ray, for example, made countless lame jokes, trying his damn hardest to steer the conversation away from the struggle with humor and sarcasm because he so desperately wanted to believe it didn’t exist. Geoff forced himself not to feel, not to react, not to care at all, but there was fire buried deep in his bones that burned relentlessly, always threatening to spill out. Meg covered her bitterness in the guise of social justice and fighting for rights they’d never have, always too small to change anything but passionate enough to at least try. 

Caleb was worryingly silent in his suffering, while Lindsay became a furious blitzkrieg; Ryan put on a mask of brashness and overconfidence, and Kdin and Jack only ever grew kinder during the few times anyone had tried to bring their spirits down. Jeremy and Matt spat out sarcastic retorts as easily as they could recite trivia about _Minecraft_ , while Miles laughed off the bruises blooming yellow and purple under their skirts and Kerry became withdrawn and quiet as a mouse. And, appropriately, Michael got angry (okay, angry, then anxious and panicky and scared- but all everyone else saw was the anger, and he wanted to keep it that way).

But Gavin... Gavin was different. Nothing ever got to him. He never changed, never cracked, never faltered. He took every single thing thrown at him- names, slurs, punches, whatever- and ignored them completely. Sure, he’d throw in an innuendo or a joke every so often to mess with people, but other than that, he was practically emotionless when it came to his side of the story. Was it just that he hadn’t been through the same shit that the rest of them had? Was it how welcoming and open-minded his parents were? Or was it something else entirely? 

Michael stared at him, talking all animated and encouraging in that meeting, mouth constantly open in a frozen laugh. They’d been dating for- what, four, five months?- and he still hadn’t completely figured him out yet.

“Michael? Hey, dude, we’re talking to you.” Ray snapped his fingers in Michael’s face.

“Huh? Oh, shit, sorry. What’d you say?”

Meg rolled her eyes. “We were _saying_ , do you think informative posters would be a good idea?”

“I don’t know,” Michael said, trying his best to look at least a little bit attentive. “I guess. Information is, like, the most important thing, right?”

“But wait,” Ryan interjected. “This is high school we’re talking about. Those are gonna get graffitied to death. Might not send out the best message.”

“True,” said Meg, frowning. “But I’ll talk to Mr. Rodriguez anyway, see if he’s got any kids from Art who might be interested in designing- you know that Risinger kid, he’s friends with Kerry, right? I’m sure he’ll wanna do it. Anyway, we’ll discuss further next time, it’s almost half past.”

Gavin stood for his closing words, grinning. “Alright, thanks to everybody for six months of bloody brilliant work! Honestly, it’s been amazing to see all of this develop. Ah, I remember when it was just me and ickle Michael before he came out! Ah, wait, sorry, no- touchy subject, but we all know about that.” He winked at him as nervous laughter echoed in the room, and his ears rang with the sound.

Michael’s stomach boiled. _How many times have I told him not to joke about that oh my God stop-_

He forced himself to stay in his seat until everyone had left and it was just him and Gavin in the empty classroom.

“You wanna walk home together?” Gavin asked, still half laughing. He stopped when he saw Michael’s tired glare.

“Gav...”

“What?” His eyes went round. “What’s wrong? You alright?”

“Well, I, uh- God, I don’t know.” Michael stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I just..” He trailed off. 

Gavin didn’t even care, did he? He didn’t actually give a damn about Michael’s problems. He just wanted to be his savior.

“Ah, it’s- uh, it’s nothing,” Michael lied. “Forget I said anything. Hell yeah, I’ll walk home with you.”

Gavin rolled his eyes, smirking, then launched into some inane tale of something he did back in England. Michael wasn’t listening. 

_Oh, God, he really doesn’t care._

He didn’t want this. It had been going _fine_. It was fucking perfect from the very beginning. They were peas in a goddamn pod, Michael and Gavin, made for each other, that’s what everyone said. But something was off, whether it was Gavin’s weird apathy or maybe Michael’s explosive emotions. They just weren’t aligned anymore. 

Their discussion on the walk home was stilted and trying and something was terribly, terribly wrong. 

They parted ways, Gavin squeezing his wrist and pecking him on the cheek within direct view of his fucking house. Like an idiot. Thank Christ his parents weren't watching from the windows.

Michael said nothing, but stumbled inside feeling more alone than ever.

 

* * *

 

Okay, he was really getting desperate now. 

He was at rock fucking bottom at this point. He needed some help, or at least something to encourage him. His little secret had been weighing down on him more and more lately, and it was getting to him more than he let on. And, well, he didn’t let on much at all. He just needed advice. He needed to know that other people had gone through the same shit that he had. He had no know that it would be better for people like him.

Because honestly, at this point, it all seemed utterly pointless.

He sighed and loaded up YouTube on his laptop, typing those two terrible words into the search bar. _Coming out._ Instantly, the page filled with hundreds of videos, thumbnails all glaringly similar- some cherubic, fake-tan young guy with a colorful fringe and a half-smile on his face.

He clicked on the first one, making sure his headphones were plugged in. 

“Hey, guys! So today’s video’s gonna be a little... different. So, I’ve been wanting to say this for a while now... Uh, I’m gay. My family has always been extremely accepting, so-”

_Next._

“This has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. So, I’m gay, and after telling my family and friends, I’ve decided to finally tell the internet. Hope this doesn’t change anything!”

_Next._

“...And I just wanted to say, if you’re in my position, and you feel insecure or scared, then I’m here to tell you that _it gets better_ , I promise.”

Michael suppressed a laugh. _Oh, yeah, sure, buddy. Things got better for you. Of course they fucking did. You have a fucking quiff. You’re wearing a goddamn patterned button-up. I bet you knew you were gay since you came out of your fucking mom singing Broadway. I bet you never had to listen to countless sermons about original sin, or your family mouthing off about ‘those damn queers’. I bet you were never called a faggot at your damn private boarding school. Of course things got better. Of course they did._

Of course, they did.

There was a reason people in his situation never made these kinds of videos. Because they were nailed in coffins. 

Michael felt too much. Way too much. He had to get it out. He quit Safari and opened up AIM, scrolling through his buddy list before settling on the familiar, someone he knew wouldn’t judge him for ranting. 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** linds? im sorry. you’re not even online but

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i just.. i feel like shit right now oh god im so scared

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** theres just so much pressure on me right now and i think gavin hates me for not coming out and i hate me for not coming out and i just want to go to sleep and not wake up for like a year

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** sorry

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** dont worry about me this was stupid and idk how to delete messages and i am too tired to figure it out

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** im a fucking idiot. im going to go hide in a hole forever now im so sorry

He shut his laptop just before Lindsay’s icon turned green. He flopped down on his bed and clenched his fists, mind too dissonant to focus on anything. It was all so awful. 

**KittensAreKool:** michael? what’s going on?

**KittensAreKool:**....... you there?

**KittensAreKool:** it says you’re online. 

**KittensAreKool:** please answer.

**KittensAreKool:** i’m calling you. hope you’re alright. 

His phone buzzed violently. Michael groaned and reached across his bed to grab it, and slid his thumb across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Michael? Michael, it’s Lindsay. I got your messages. What’s going on?”

_Ah, fuck._ He scrambled for a fragment of a lie, anything to get her to leave him alone.

“Uh, I- fuck, I’m sorry, it was just-”

“Just what?”

“I don’t know, just stupid teenage hormones, you know how it is. Sorry for, like, bothering you and shit. I guess I’m just tired or something.”

“Michael. Just listen to me. Are you okay?”

He was all fire and brimstone, halfway to a biting comeback when her words hit him. _What did she say?_

“Are you, honest to God, okay? Are you happy?”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about?” His heart was beating out of his chest. _What is going on?_

“When’s the last time you had a full night’s sleep, huh? You always seem so tired. You’re always so... angry. When’s the last time you can honestly say you felt happy with your life?”

“Linds, stop- I’m _fine_.”

“No, Michael. You’re not. I think...” She sighed. “I think you need help.”

“Help?” Michael spluttered. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re worrying me, okay? I am scared for you. I just want you to be happy, and keeping your secret... it’s just not working. I’ve seen you, during meetings- you look so terrified whenever anyone mentions coming out. You might not believe it, but everyone wants you to be happy, and we’re all so worried about you. Ray, and Miles, and _of course_ Gavin- even Geoff’s talked to me about it. And I know for a fact Ryan is constantly worrying. Almost every damn day he talks and talks about how he wishes things would get better for you. He’s super protective over you for some reason.” She paused. “We’re all here, y’know, if you ever need to talk. We’re always here. You should know that by now. You’re not weak for needing help.”

Something about that sent shocks of electricity through Michael’s spine, and a sinking feeling to his stomach. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears, and the line was crackling and silent. There was a lump in his throat, and he couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t know what to say, and he could almost feel the apologies spilling out from under his tongue.

“Michael?” Lindsay prompted. “I’m here. Please say something. I’m here to help.”

“I, uh-” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry- I don’t want you guys worrying about me. I- I can deal. I think I can deal. I’m, uh, I just need time. To figure it all out. I just-”

“Yeah, I got it.” She sounded... disappointed. “Just.. make sure you let us know if you need to talk, okay?”

_Like that’ll happen._ “Yeah, sure,” he lied. “Of course. You... you have a good night, Linds.”

“You too. Stay safe, alright?”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

Michael sat cross-legged on his bed, head in his hands. _Since when did my life turn into a teen drama movie?_


	11. (never put the safety on)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. Um, trigger warnings for thoughts of suicide in this chapter. Also next chapter (which is a lot more intense). And the one after that. I was initially quite nervous to put this out, and if you feel uncomfortable or in any way bad when you read stuff with suicide-related storylines, it’s totally cool if you stop reading here. Anyway. Thanks again for all your kudos and comments, it means a ton. Hope everyone’s having a bloody great day. <3 (yo if you ever need to talk you can always shoot me an ask on my tumblr rqynarvaezjr!! im here for youuu)  
> -E

It started like almost everything did, quiet and subtle and innocent. And, like mostly everything was, it was Gavin’s fault. And, like most everything did, it ended with a whimper, not a bang. Never a bang. No one was ever brave enough for the bang.

_  
_

* * *

 

“Ok, I’m Waluigi. You’re all _fucked_ ,” Ray declared, a merciless grin on his face as he clicked through car options with his Wii remote.

It was a gray Saturday, and Michael had invited Ray, Gavin and Lindsay to his house for a couple of games of Mario Kart while his parents were out. Which was to say, he invited _them_ , but of course that meant that Ryan and Jack and Geoff and Miles and Kerry had to pile into his living room too, and their little gaming hangout turned into a full-scale tournament.

Ray and Ryan had conquered most of the couch for themselves- a true power couple- with a grumbling Miles shoved at the end, Kerry sat on their lap (it was a _they_ day). This left Geoff, Jack, Michael, Gavin and Lindsay to sit sprawled on pillows across the floor at their feet.

Geoff, a self-proclaimed Nintendo basher, was lying on his back, texting Griffon and refusing to play- he said he only came for the snacks. He was tallying scores as well, though Michael didn’t know how he kept track when he barely looked at the screen.

“Face the wrath of Toad!” Kerry laughed as the race began.

“Oh, yeah, _Toad_. Totally wrathful.”

“Shut your face, Miles. You’re distrac- ah, shit, you made me fall off, you asshole!”

“Aaaand Ray is in first now. Again.” Jack tapped the controller against the back of his palm as if it was broken. “For the- Geoff, how many times is it now?”

“Uh. Like, eleven?”

“For the _eleventh time_. How does he _do_ that?”

“I told you. I’m the fucking Kart God. Also, Waluigi. Enough said.”

It was nice, this. Just hanging out without talking about drama or gay things or social goddamn justice. Michael hadn’t felt innocent in so long now. He was still just a kid, right?

He needed it. He needed to be a kid so badly.

So he stuffed his face with badly-microwaved-to-the-point-of-blackening popcorn and gladly took the Wii remote when Jack handed it to him for his turn. He laughed when he lost spectacularly and yelled at Gavin when he did something stupid.

It had been a long fucking time since he’d felt so content. 

And fuck if he didn’t jinx it. 

His turn finished and he passed the remote to Lindsay, then burrowed his head into the crook of Gavin’s shoulder. Somehow that turned into a tangle of gangly limbs among the scattered pillows. Jack and Ray raised their eyebrows and sent each other pointed glances, and Miles laughed. They ended up leaning back against the foot of the couch, arms wrapped around each other so carelessly, and Gavin pressed a quick kiss to the top of his forehead.

And there was no way, no fucking way _that_ was the moment, the God-awful dreaded terrible reveal. 

Coincidences like that didn’t actually happen, right? The world didn’t work like that, like some shitty cable show or a cliched straight-to-DVD movie. It wasn’t supposed to be _like_ this. It was Mario Kart day, for Christ’s sake. He wasn’t ready.

But of course, _of course_ , it happened in all the wrong ways and his parents walked through the door and everything froze.

“ _Michael?_ ” came the shrill voice from the doorway, and the accusatory point, and Ryan dropped his controller with a clatter. Someone had the initiative to pause the game. Everyone’s eyes shot to Michael and Gavin, pressed together close enough to feel eyelashes fluttering on cheeks.

There was no thought for this, no ragged insult, no punch to throw. Michael was completely, utterly, terribly fucked.

The pads of Gavin’s fingers trailed down his cheek, and everyone’s mouths were wide-the-fuck-open and _for fuck’s sake, Gav, get your hands off, can’t you see, can’t you see them-_

“What _is_ this?” demanded his dad, something hollow in his eyes. “What are you-”

“Dad, I...” Michael stammered. For once in his life he didn’t know what to say.

“Out,” his father commanded, and everyone scrambled to leave, the gravity of the situation dawning. Gavin squeezed his hand before pulling a protesting Ryan and Ray out the door. Lindsay looked like she was about to cry before running out. Miles and Kerry slunk away, eyes wide and terrified.

Geoff almost stayed. Almost. But Jack shoved him away in a panic and all he could do was shout.

“Fuck off, you homophobic, bigoted assholes!” Geoff yelled through the half-ajar door, Jack trying to yank him away by the shoulder. “You’re the reason he’s never fucking happy, you know that? Your son is a goddamn wreck because of this! You’re _destroying_ him!” 

His voice cut off as the door slammed shut in his face.

And then it was just Michael and his parents and the _secret_ , hovering and broken between.

He exhaled, and the noise dissipated like smoke in a hurricane. “So, I- uh.” It was hard to feel free. He could say it, he had to say it, it was spilling out and it was just so easy to teeter over the precipice. “I’m gay, okay? I’m fucking gay. I’ve been dating Gavin for the past four months.”

They were terribly steely-eyed, and Michael was afraid their fists would raise or even their voices.

“Oh, Michael, you’re- is this a joke?” His mother sounded so broken. His stomach dropped.

“Um, no, it’s true. I- I’m sorry, it’s just... oh _God_.”

“Michael...” his dad murmured. He was frowning. _Oh, shit, he’s frowning, that’s not a good sign- wait, why are you so surprised? Did you think they would accept you? Did you ever have a glimmer of fucking hope?_

“Was it Ray?” his mom asked, all accusatory. “I knew he was a bad influence on you. Or your other friend, what was his name- Ryan? Or was it Gavin? Did he fill your brain with these ideas?”

“Look, I get it, I do,” Michael started, voice all scratchy and hoarse. He padded at his eye to stop a ear from rolling down his cheek. He couldn’t show any _more_ weakness. “You don’t want me to go to Hell. You want me to give you grandkids, or whatever. You think it’s a phase, right? You think it’s just something stupid and I can just get over it? It’s not like that. It was seventh grade when I realized, okay? It wasn’t Ray or Rye or- or Gavin. It’s just how I’ve always been.”

His dad scoffed quietly. “Oh, yeah, and I suppose you’ll be wearing pink sparkly dresses and makeup, then?”

Michael’s mind flashed to Miles and Caleb and all he felt was hot, scarlet anger. _This isn’t going anywhere. They hate you. They fucking hate you and they want you to leave and they don’t care about you and nothing matters now-_

He balled his fists and began the torturous walk upstairs.

“I’m sorry if I _disappointed_ you,” he muttered through clenched teeth and a lump in his throat that he knew wouldn’t subside for another hour.  

He practically fell into his bed and embraced the dark, too early. His bed was so comfortable. He wanted to never wake up again.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t leave his room all day Sunday.

He just couldn’t face it. He couldn’t face _them_. 

It wasn’t like the movies. They never cried and hugged him and launched into a grand speech about love and acceptance, but they never screamed or hit him or kicked him out. In some ways, this was worse. Just the heavy, frozen silence that weighed over the entire house, weighed down on him. The not-knowing. 

But the worst part of that day was that it was frustratingly normal. The sun still rose at six thirty. He ate a leftover bag of chips for breakfast rather than going downstairs. 

His parents left for church. He could hear them through the walls, all rustling keys and mindless chatting.

“..but of course, we have to talk to Pastor Zach about this whole... situation. If we pray, God will guide us and help us through,” his mother said quietly. Michael didn’t want to fucking hear it. He didn’t want to hear them talk about him, or God, or anything. “This.. this _sin_ , there must be some way to help him get rid of it, right? To help him become normal again?”

Michael put in his headphones and tried to calm his heart rate, tried to stop himself from breaking again.

_I can’t let it get to me, fucking damn it. I have to get over it. Get over it, asshole._

His laptop never opened that day, but the messages still came flooding in, never opened, never read.

 

**KittensAreKool:** michael? what happened yesterday after we all left?

**KittensAreKool:** are you alright?

**KittensAreKool:** you can always talk to us if you need to!! :c

 

**BrownMan:** dude??? 

**BrownMan:** wtf even happened yesterday? you never answered rye’s texts, hes worried sick. im worried sick. we are all worried sick.

**BrownMan:** please be ok, man, im scared for you 

 

**KingRyeBread:** hey, michael. just checking in, ray told me your screen name. you didn’t respond to my texts earlier, is everything okay at home?

**KingRyeBread:** i hope you’re alright. really, i do. message me if you need any kind of help.

**KingRyeBread:** if it’s any consolation... my mom didn’t accept it at first. my dad was okay with it, but she didn’t talk to me for a week. and then.. she learned. she got over it. it’s not always going to be this bad. give them time.

 

**Goeffunk:** just wanted to let you know i’m pissed for you.

**Geoffunk:** if that means anything.

**Geoffunk:** i am so fucking pissed that i let this happen to someone else. so fucking pissed. 

 

**LunaTic:** are you there?

**LunaTic:** are you there?

**LunaTic:** are you there?

 

**GavinoFree:** this is all my bloody fault

**GavinoFree:** i feel so awful 

**GavinoFree:** why wont you answer my calls please talk to me i want you to be ok  

 

Michael never looked at them, or called them, or even sent one reply. He just felt empty, and tired, and tired.

He didn’t get over it, either.

* * *

 

Monday was a train wreck, and all the clamor after.

In homeroom, Ray was very quiet and very sullen, not even joking about Mr. McCormick’s choice of tie like he usually did.

“Hey, man, what exactly.. happened?” he asked under his breath. “On Saturday, I mean. You didn’t answer anyone’s messages.”

Michael sighed. “It sucked, basically. I don’t wanna go too far into it. It was fucking awful and that’s all you need to know.”

Ray made a non-committal grunt and that was that, until lunch.

Michael made a point to avoid the lunch table, and all of their are-you-okays and worried-about-yous. He stole away to the back of the school grounds, behind the bleachers of the field where all the druggies and smokers flaunted their truancy. He was free from conversation, and spent thirty minutes staring at clouds and twirling grass blades around his fingers, trying to stop his hands from trembling so much.

“You skipping lunch too?” asked a voice far too close for comfort. Michael whipped around to stare into the stubbled face of one Geoff Ramsey.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You look like shit.”

“I know. I feel like shit.”

“Course you do. It fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” Geoff sighed almost wistfully. “All the others are all so _happy_ about being gay or pan or whatever, and they say it makes ‘em feel free, and all it does is make it worse for kids like us, y’know? It’s not freedom to us. It’s goddamn shackles and chains and shit. We can’t even go to a fucking meeting without being reminded that our own families hate us. So, of course you feel like shit. That’s normal.”

Michael was silent. “Guess you’re right. How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Live with yourself. You know... afterwards.”

“I have no goddamn clue.” Geoff shook his head, eyes far-away. “I had a gun in my hand and everything when Griffon found me. Said it was the scariest moment of her life. Still don’t know if I really would’ve done it.”

“Huh.”

“You take care of yourself, kid,” Geoff said as they heard the bell ring inside. 

Michael nodded, and forced a smile. He was doing that a lot these days.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t realize he actually wanted to die until Tuesday. 

It was kind of unexpected, really, and it wasn’t like the movies. There was no haunting violin score, no bloodbath, no kissing scars or standing on rooftops.

It happened in the middle of English, actually. They were meant to be planning an essay about the color symbolism in _The Great Gatsby_ but all Michael was thinking of was his future, or rather, his lack of one.

Because what was there, really? Daily panic attacks? Cold shoulders? The bite of a bullet?

If he was being honest, it was hard to get through the days without breaking. It was getting harder and harder to feel good about himself. There was just... nothing. Nothing he could see. No silver lining, no sunshine, no fucking rainbow peeking out from behind a cloud. It was just black. It was just pressure.

His parents had made it pretty goddamn clear he was just a burden to them. Just a black scorch mark on the family name. They wouldn’t really miss him. They hated him anyway- they hated the secrets that had been hiding under his tongue. They’d be happy to see him gone, wouldn’t they?

But there was also the issue of his friends. They’d be upset, right? Lindsay would. Ray would. But they would get over it soon enough. They’d understand. And Ray and Ryan had each other, anyway. They didn’t need him. No one really _needed_ him.

And Gavin... Gavin wouldn’t care. He didn’t understand pain, had never gone through it, had never bothered to realize that maybe coming out wasn’t right, wasn’t _safe_ for Michael. He had sort of known from day one that he didn’t give a fuck about anyone other than himself. 

Or maybe that was something else talking. Something sinister and dark and hidden in the back of Michael’s brain. It was terrifying in its honesty. He couldn’t trust himself to think. Couldn’t trust his own _brain_? Now that was seriously fucked up. 

Some part of Michael knew that he needed to stop himself, but in no way would his body respond to that. He thought about how thirty aspirins would feel, how they would burn the back of his throat, or maybe the tug of silk or woven rope around his neck-

‘Michael? You feeling alright?” someone asked, lined with a laugh. His stomach dropped like a stone. He turned to face them- some kid called Aaron he’d never really talked to- and somehow, after everything, he managed to pull his face into a mockup of a smile.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Just... just tired.”

If only insomnia was the worst of his problems.

* * *

 

Wednesday was another panic attack and, in the sharp breaths and free-fall that followed, a realization.

It was just simple. Just facing facts. It was his only option, really, or at least his best one.

_I’m going to kill myself._

_I am going to fucking kill myself._

The thought was less terrible than the build-up, really. It seemed awfully, awfully normal and he hated himself for it but he relished the calm that seeped into his brain and the static brushing past his bones in a sea of _it’s okay_ and _you’ve always loved the dark_ and _see you on the other side, friend_. The strangest part was that it wasn’t scary, not in the slightest. It was just the end. 

And everything ends, right? Everything dies? Everything eventually becomes the dust it rose from in the beginning?

It was a headache. He just wanted to sleep.


	12. (i’m trying, i’m trying to sleep)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya. Again, sorry this took so long, next chapter will probably be up sooner. Be careful while reading this. No, seriously. Huge trigger warning for suicide attempts in this chapter. Do NOT read if you know it will make you uncomfortable or anxious. Love you guys <3  
> -E

There was something kind of awe-striking about knowing he wouldn’t live to see Friday. 

Of course, it was all anxiety and terror and melancholy, but the books never talked about the nostalgia of the situation, walking through the parking lot for the last time and taking in the _freedom_. Lingering touches on a locker and the muscle memory of a number you’ll only have to remember a couple more times; flipping through notebooks full of information that’ll never get memorized; everything being stripped away so quickly and quietly and no one knew.

Michael was standing on the cusp of his own black hole, and _isn’t it beautiful?_

But there were also the goodbyes. He couldn’t just tell them he was going, couldn’t really _say_ , but he had to have closure.

It was Thursday, and Gavin was chatting to him during Spanish. They’d managed to move past the whole ‘ _you outed me, asshole_ ’ conversation, and it was back to normal, back to stupid inside jokes and desktop gossip and those menial words. Michael was worried, though, about Gavin. Because, really, there was one terrible thing he had to do, before he left. 

He had to break up with him. 

It was just... just sensible. Just systematic evaluation of choice and consequence. The best choice- the only choice, really- was to break up with Gavin before it got any worse. At least then he’d already be detached. Rip off the bandaid before shooting him point-blank in his metaphorical chest, so to speak.

_It might make it worse,_ he told himself. _You’ll be killing him twice today._

_You’re dead anyway, asshole, what do you care about his feelings?_ And there was the devil on his shoulder. _Not like you’ll be there to see them._

Mr. Burns kept looking at him funnily all through History. Michael wondered if he knew, somehow. He kept his head down and tried to laugh at Miles’ dumb jokes. 

By lunch, he was exhausted. Keeping up the facade just got.. too hard. Too fucking hard. He skipped out on getting food and laid his head on the table, not even noticing when everyone began to sit down around him.

“Michael?” Lindsay poked him, grinning. “What’s up?”

“Tired.”

“Ah... alright.” She bit her lip awkwardly. “You should go to sleep earlier, dude.” She turned back to Meg and started up a conversation Michael could swear they’d had before. 

When Gavin got there, he laughed at Michael for a second but his eyes were creased with worry. Miles mouthed _are you okay?_ and Michael sighed, waving him off.

No one else really noticed his silence.

 

* * *

 

Michael arrived at the club meeting fifteen minutes late. 

He hadn’t planned on going, originally. They cared too much. But he had to say goodbye, didn’t he? _Closure. You’re going for closure._ He spent a quarter of an hour just dawdling in the hallway, weighing his choices, before finally deciding to just go and get it over with. 

“So we’ll need to make at least three posters, right? One for sexual orientation, one for romantic and one for gender identity?” Meg was saying to a dark-haired boy in front of a laptop. Michael supposed he was that Risinger kid they’d talked about a couple weeks back.

“I think that should work,” Gavin agreed with a shark-toothed grin. He then turned to Michael. “Glad to see _you’ve_ finally joined us!”

“Sorry, I was just... Ms. Eberle kept me late again,” he lied. He sat at the end of the table next to Ray, who looked at him inquisitively before immediately turning back to the argument.

They discussed the stupid fucking posters for a whole half hour. Everyone had suggestions and they all had to be heard and Michael was trying his hardest to disappear into his chair. 

Lindsay and Kdin kept looking at him warily. He tried his best not to notice. He was busy planning his upcoming talk with Gavin, anyway. He had to untangle the words.

The meeting ended finally with an agreement on the content of the posters and Jon packed up his laptop, laughing with Meg about some dumb joke she’d made. Michael muttered quick goodbyes to everyone, but he hung at the back, not moving his feet. Everyone else said goodbye hastily and hurriedly, barely looking back at him. 

The things you notice on your last day.

As soon as everyone began to peel away Michael grabbed Gavin by the wrist and dragged him to the corner of the classroom.

“I have to talk to you,” he mumbled, staring at his shoes. 

“Oi, hang on a minute, what’s this about?” Gavin asked, pushing Michael’s chin upwards with a finger. “ _Michael_ , what’s going on?”

He looked so confused and so innocent, moon-sized eyes and a lopsided smile that never really fit on his face.

“Gav, I, uh, _fuck_. I’m so sorry... ah, shit.”

“Michael? What are you on about?” His face fell. 

What if this was even worse? Breaking him twice? Was that sadistic? What was he doing? What the fuck was wrong with him?

_It’s all ending anyway. Might as well be truthful._

“Gavin, I don’t- I can’t- We’re not exactly.. working out.”

Gavin was silent, but Michael could see planes crashing in his expression. 

“I mean, there’s the whole thing with my parents, and I think I just need space. From kinda everything. You... especially.”

Still silence. 

“What, is that it?” Gavin said sharply. “It’s all just over?”

Michael nodded, slowly, folding in on himself all over again.

Gavin sneered. “Ah, yeah, everything is all my fault, innit? _My fault_ your parents are pricks, _my fault_ you can’t get over yourself, _my fault_ you can’t even talk to your friends about your bloody stupid emotions!” His jaw set. “Guess what, though? All of that was _you_. I’ve been here! I’ve been trying to help you for _so long_. Guess you really need a reality check.”

The world was definitely broken if Gavin Free was furious. 

“Gav, I-”

“ _Don’t_. I get it, you git. Sort of. But stop making me your scapegoat, arsehole! Not everything is going to be perfect all the bloody time!”

“Oh, you can fuckin’ talk!” Michael spat back. “You have your life set out for you, y’know? Everything is _fine_ and _dandy_ and nothing has _ever_ gone wrong for you. You’ve never even _tried_ to understand the bullshit I have to go through every goddamn day. Tell me, have your parents ever not talked to you for forty-eight hours straight?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he scoffed. “Next you’re gonna go and kill yourself or something. It always escalates with you, doesn’t it? Where do you draw the line?”

It was like Michael had been shot in the head, in the chest, in the stomach and he wanted to throw up and everything was just too close to home.

_Kill yourself._ A beat. _Kill yourself._ A beat. _Kill yourself._ A beat.

“Fuck you,” he muttered through gritted teeth. 

The door swung open with a creak.

“Um, guys?” Miles poked his head through the door, eyes wide. “I, uh, forgot my... Wait, what’s going on?”

Michael huffed and shook his head. “Bye, Gavin. I- I’m sorry. For everything.” He pushed past Miles and made his way out through the twisting hallways, rubbing his temples and choking on his own breath. 

There were footsteps echoing behind him, and he turned, brimming with bitterness and anger and, fuck it, he was filled with goddamn _rage_.

It was just Miles.

“Dude, what was all that about?” he asked, a kind of awed laugh bubbling from his mouth. “You guys have a, uh, falling out?”

“I broke up with him.”

“...Oh. I, uh- everything okay with you?”

Michael shrugged. He didn’t have the energy to lie. “I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Miles smiled sadly. “Yeah, that happens sometimes. It’s just a part of life. People come and leave and sometimes you need to let some of them go. Don’t be so worried about it. You’re both pissed right now, but tomorrow everything will be clearer, you’ll see.”

_Tomorrow._ Michael almost laughed at the thought. “Thanks, dude.” They turned the corner to the parking lot where he knew they’d have to split. “Bye, Miles. And, uh, thank you. For everything.”

Miles shot him a puzzled look, but said nothing. 

When Michael walked home, he crossed the road without looking both ways. The streets were empty, but he wouldn’t have cared if they weren’t.  

 

* * *

 

He got home and locked his door, the calmest he’d felt since September. His parents were already out for their friend’s weekly poker night. They wouldn’t find him till he was long gone. Good. He didn’t know how he would live with himself if they stopped him.

He decided on pills, in the end. He wasn’t brave enough for a gun or a knife or a blade, and there wasn’t really much he could hang himself from. And his house was only two stories, he could hardly jump. But the medicine cabinet was always well-stocked. 

He wasn’t sure when he’d started crying but it was coming out in rivers down his cheeks. _Fuck_ , he was trying to be calm about this. Rational. He wasn’t _allowed_ to feel anything. He wiped the tears off with his shirt and breathed in and out and in and out and it was _fine_. He was dying, but he was fine.

First, he messaged Ray. Someone had to know, someone had to get it directly. It might have been the hardest thing Michael had ever had to do. He could barely see the keyboard through the tears but he blinked them away- dry heaving, dry mouthed but still dripping from the eyes.

 

> **YaBoyMikeyJ:** ray oh god im sorry im soryr but i cant go on at this point, i can barely get out of fucking bed every day and i know you told me it would get better and to keep trying but honestly i cant see the point. i’ll already be gone by the time you read this and i just want you to remember me as i really was. i wish i could have been a better friend. im sorry. i feel like such a piece of shit for doing this honestly but i cant think of any other way to make things better. im sorry. im sorry. 

Then it was the note, left unceremonious on torn notebook paper, left loose on his desk next to the closed laptop and dead phone.

 

 

> bye, everyone. i would say i’m sorry for doing this but i kind of don’t feel anything right now. i’m killing myself. i’ve kind of been dying for weeks. i came out to my parents and now they think i’m a sin and i hate myself for letting it get to me but mostly i hate myself for being gay and i know i can’t control it but it was just too much effort to get through the days. i wish i could have been better. 
> 
> to lindsay, you have to keep burning bright. you have to keep trying.
> 
> to ryan, you tried so hard to help. you were the first person to really save me. im sorry you couldnt in the end.
> 
> to miles, you are so pure and i dont want this to break you but i hope you understand why i did it
> 
> to gav, everything i said today was wrong and awful and it was never all your fault.
> 
> to ray, don’t you fucking dare stop laughing. you’re my best friend and i think out of everything i’ll miss you the most. 
> 
> to all my friends, i am so fucking sorry you tried and you tried but it was all for nothing and i wish you’d never met me
> 
> to my parents, fuck you. you were supposed to accept me, you were supposed to love me unconditionally so, thanks, for not doing that. 
> 
> to everyone, i hope you learn from this, and i hope you realize that we are dying. we are DYING. we all need help. 
> 
> i wish it didn’t have to be this way.
> 
> -michael

 

And that was that, really. All the emotion had been sucked out and left in drying ink on paper, on circuitry and his computer’s LCD screen. There was nothing left for him. 

Everything was said and done.

He left his room and stumbled into the upstairs bathroom, locking the door and cracking open the medicine cabinet.

He didn’t really remember how the little orange bottle of pills actually got into his hand, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. The lip popped off, and he was so very still. 

_Ambien (Zolpidem)_. Used a few years ago for his dad’s insomnia, long since treated and cured but the pills still remained. Each crumbling and white and the size of his fingernail. 

The act was not so dramatic. He took a deep breath before throwing one to the back of his mouth and swallowing, hard. It was just pills. Just powder.

And down they went. One, two, seven, nine, sixteen, and he was already gone. _Another_ , though, and another, and he lay frozen and losing consciousness on the bathroom floor.

His stomach began to cramp up. Acid burned hot and dry in his throat. But the dark spots that danced in his clouded vision were beautiful and he was finally, truly, escaping.

_Escaping._

Now all that was left was the waiting, for it to hit and for him to sleep and the cold tiles were not a nice pillow but at least it was _something_ -

Then, the blackness.

He started counting from zero.


	13. (we all have guns for hands)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thank you guys ever so much for 100 bookmarks and 600 kudos, and all your lovely comments, they mean the world to me <3 This chapter’s a little shorter than usual, sorry! If y'all have read my other story you'll know that I like to mix up the format and writing style every so often, so this one's told exclusively in chat logs and texts. Hope you enjoy, heart you!

_10:07 pm_

 

**BrownMan:** michael??

**BrownMan:** MICHAEL PLEASE FUCKING ANSWER ME

**BrownMan:** WE CAN GET YOU HELP PLEASE ANSWER YOUR PHONE

**BrownMan:** please if you dont answer im calling an ambulance

**BrownMan:** please for gods sake pick up

 

**CALLING: MICHAEL**

**CALL MISSED**

* * *

 

_10:10 pm_

 

**BrownMan:** rye oh my god are you online please tell me youre online i need you

**KingRyeBread:** what’s going on?

**BrownMan:** it’s michael. 

**BrownMan:** he just sent me a fucking suicide note.

**KingRyeBread:** are you serious?

**KingRyeBread:** oh, god.

**KingRyeBread:** do you know if he’s okay? when did he send it?

**BrownMan:** no i just opened up my laptop and he sent it over an hour ago im so scared i dont know what to do

**BrownMan:** do i call an ambulance or his parents or should i go over to his house and see if hes okay

**KingRyeBread:** i don’t... i really have no idea. 

**BrownMan:** fuck it. im going over to his house

**BrownMan:** i know he wouldnt want his parents involved so if they dont know already i could help him at least

**KingRyeBread:** well, i’m coming with you.

**BrownMan:** you wont get there fast enough- you live on the opposite side of town

**BrownMan:** i can walk there in like 7 mins

**KingRyeBread:** i have a car.

**BrownMan:** oh. right. guess i’ll see u there

**KingRyeBread:** i just hope we can save him in time.

**BrownMan:** dont you dare fucking jinx this you asshole

 

* * *

 

_12:31 am_

 

**KingRyeBread:** linds... michael’s in hospital.

**KittensAreKool:** what??? what happened?

**KingRyeBread:** he.. oh, god. this is so hard to say.

**KingRyeBread:** he took a lot of pills. 

**KingRyeBread:** he was trying to kill himself.

**KittensAreKool:** WHAT?

**KittensAreKool:** is he okay?

**KingRyeBread:** we don’t know yet. ray and i went over to his house- he sent ray some sort of, uh, suicide note. he was locked in the bathroom. we had to call an ambulance. they had to break the fucking door down. the paramedics didn’t let us go with him, though. family only, they said. i’m spending the night at ray’s- he’s a mess. we’re kind of both a mess, actually. his mom’s a freaking saint for letting me stay.

**KittensAreKool:** what about michael’s parents? were they there?

**KingRyeBread:** that was the worst part- they weren’t. ray had to call them and tell them himself. they’re with him at the hospital now. ray and i were thinking of going to see him tomorrow.

**KittensAreKool:** i can’t believe this.

**KittensAreKool:** didn’t he know we were TRYING to help him??

**KittensAreKool:**...have you told gavin yet?

**KingRyeBread:** ray’s doing that now. 

**KingRyeBread:** we’re not going to school tomorrow. hate to say it but this whole thing really fucked ray up and we do have to go visit michael.

**KittensAreKool:** well, i’m going too, then. what time?

**KingRyeBread:** ten am? he’s at austin general. 

**KittensAreKool:** guess i’ll see you there, then. 

**KittensAreKool:** gotta go. g’night, ryan.

**KingRyeBread:** goodnight.

 

* * *

 

_12:32 am_

 

**BrownMan:** gav? you there?

**GavinoFree:** yea, whats up? :-)))

**GavinoFree:** why are u up so late anyway?

**BrownMan:** god,i dont know how to tell you this

**BrownMan:** its michael.

**GavinoFree:** ugh,,, what about him? what shitty drama has he got himself into this time?

**BrownMan:** gav... 

**BrownMan:** he tried to kill himself tonight.

**GavinoFree:** wait what???

**GavinoFree:** ur joking right? u have to be bloody joking

**BrownMan:** i fucking wish i was. i was there.

**GavinoFree:** is he.....?

**BrownMan:** in hospital. hes alive but we dont know what could happen

**GavinoFree:** shit. shit shit shit shit shit shit

**GavinoFree:** this is all my fucking FAULT

 

**CALLING: X-RAY**

**CALL DECLINED**

 

**BrownMan:** im sorry gav

**BrownMan:** i really cant talk right now

**GavinoFree:** alright

**GavinoFree:** u going to school tmrw?

**BrownMan:** me and rye think we might skip 

**BrownMan:** we’re gonna visit him in hospital instead

**GavinoFree:** can i come??

**BrownMan:** sure, hes at austin general. be there at ten

**BrownMan:** hey one more thing

**GavinoFree:**??

**BrownMan:** he left a note on his desk

**BrownMan:** he said to tell you ‘everything i said today was wrong and awful and it was never all your fault’

**BrownMan:** i hope that means something to you.

**GavinoFree:** fuck

**GavinoFree:** fuckfuckfuckfuc k

**GavinoFree:** night, ray

_GavinoFree has logged off_

 

* * *

 

**[10:13:01 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** michael?

**[10:13:43 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** this is so stupid and i know texting you is useless but i dont know what else to do

**[10:14:21 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** so me, ray, ryan and lindsay are at the hospital trying to see u but theyre only letting family through rn

**[10:16:32 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** shite, ray is bloody furious

**[10:16:58 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** hes yelling at the receptionist oh my god

**[10:20:11 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** so... we got kicked out of the hospital... but we’re gonna try to sneak in and see u later today maybe?

 

**[11:03:29 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** did u really not mean it? 

**[11:03:56 AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** im sorry this isnt the time but i just 

**[11:05:17AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** im sorry.

 

* * *

 

_4:03 pm_  

 

**Geoffunk:** so ryan just told me about the whole michael thing

**Geoffunk:** i can’t believe i let this happen.

**Geoffunk:** i should have stopped him i could have helped him

**JackSquatch:** It’s not your fault, Geoff. No one saw this coming.

**Geoffunk:** YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND I SHOULD HAVE FUCKING SEEN IT

**Geoffunk:** after the whole mario kart thing. he just looked so tired all the time and i swear to god i had a weird fucking feeling it would escalate.

**Geoffunk:** i could have goddamn STOPPED him, jack.

**JackSquatch:** We all could’ve stopped it. 

**JackSquatch:** Anyway, he’s recovering. Well... that’s what Ryan said.

**Geoffunk:** you know ryan. he doesn’t like giving out bad news.

**Geoffunk:** for all we know michael could be fucking dying. 

**JackSquatch:** I know you’re attached to the kid. 

**Geoffunnk:** shut up shut up

**JackSquatch:** Which is WHY you can’t give up on him.

**Geoffunk:** i’m not saying i’m giving up. i’m just saying i’m worried.

**JackSquatch:** You have every right to be. Hell, I’m terrified.

**JackSquatch:** We just have to hope for the best, I guess.

**Geoffunk:** that’s not fucking enough 

_Geoffunk has logged off_

 

* * *

 

_12:04 am_  

 

**CALL INCOMING: UNKNOWN NUMBER**  

“H-hello?”

“Hi, is this Ray Narvaez? You gave us your number earlier- before you got, uh, kicked out. I hope I didn’t wake you. This is Steffie, from Austin General Hospital. We’re calling about Michael Jones.”

“What about him? Is he-”

“He’s conscious and is currently recovering. Just wanted to give you an update on his status.”

“Well, how is he?”

“He’s still quite delirious, and he’s not really responding to his parents. But... given the circumstances, I think that might not be because of the anesthetics. Anyway, because he’s awake, we can let friends visit tomorrow.”

“Really? That’s... that’s great.”

“I have to let you know that you have to be careful around him. He’s in a very... _sensitive_ state right now. And I wouldn’t recommend groups of more that two people per visit- just as a precaution.”

“Uh- sure, yeah. Thank you so much. And, um, sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

“That’s fine- you were in a very high pressure situation, it was definitely understandable. Hope you have a good night!”

“You... you too.”

 

* * *

 

**[12:09:12 AM] Ray <3: **the hospital called and told me we can visit michael tmrw

**[12:10:00 AM] Rye-Bread:** really? that’s great!

**[12:10:30 AM] Ray <3: **i mean... 

**[12:10:59 AM] Ray <3: **idk. hes fucking depressed. 

**[12:11:24 AM] Ray <3: **thats not exactly ‘great’.

**[12:11:49 AM] Ray <3: **i just dont know how to feel, yknow?

**[12:12:17 AM] Rye-Bread:** i guess you’re right.

**[12:13:01 AM] Rye-Bread:** i’m kind of scared of what we might see tomorrow.

**[12:13:31 AM] Rye-Bread:** i just hope...

**[12:13:47 AM] Rye-Bread:** never mind.

**[12:14:02 AM] Rye-Bread:** goodnight, ray. see you tomorrow <3

**[12:15:37 AM] Ray <3: **wait what were you going to say????

**[12:15:59 AM] Ray <3: **gnight, rye 


	14. (where your mind has gone)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter might take a couple of weeks, sorry! I’m going on holiday in the Philippines and I’m not sure how much time I’ll have to write. Hope you enjoy, love you guys! <3  
> -E

When Michael woke up, his brain was screaming. 

The world was white and glaring, and he blinked, struggling to make sense of it all. His head pounded and his fingers were numb and everything was just overloading his senses.

_Why am I not dead? Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?_

Voices. He could hear voices. Were they fucking angels? Why was the room so bright? Why was it all so loud?

“Nurse! Nurse, he’s conscious! Get someone over here!”

It was his mother. 

So he wasn’t dead. 

Why wasn’t he dead?

His vision swam. A nurse came over immediately, fluttering around his bed. 

He caught one glimpse of his mother- clearly exhausted, with the darkest of circles and a jaw set in stone- before she was tugged out of the room by a different nurse. There was no sign of his dad.

The room held six hospital beds, each with pale turquoise curtains drawn to hide whoever lay behind- it must have been late at night. A clock was ticking softly on the wall. Everything was pure and white and it smelled _too_ clean. 

“Where am I?” he mumbled, though he already kind of knew. 

The nurse smiled. “You’re in the psychiatric ward of Austin General Hospital. You tried to overdose on sleeping pills- you’re lucky your friends found you and called an ambulance as son as possible. You were transferred from the ER this morning.”

“Morning?”

“You’ve been out for a while. You were admitted last night- oh, twenty-six hours ago, I’d say. It’s about midnight right now.”

“Oh.”

“You have some minimal liver damage, so you’re going to have to stay here for a few more days. Hopefully you’ll be able to be discharged Monday, at the very earliest- your parents didn’t opt for you to be put in any sort of mental hospital after you heal up,” said the nurse, scarily chipper. 

“That’s- that’s fine,” he rasped out, not sure how to feel.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” she exclaimed, with a quiet laugh. “Your friends were here earlier. They got a little, should we say, _aggressive_ , so they were sort of told to leave-”

“Aggressive?” Michael echoed. He paused. “Who was it?”

The nurse shook her head. “I never got their names. Sorry. But we told them they could come back tomorrow!”

“No,” Michael interrupted, eyes wide. He didn’t want them seeing him... like _this_. “Uh.. look, I just want to be out of here as soon as goddamn possible. Is it too much to ask for you to stop them from, uh, seeing me?”

The nurse frowned, but nodded. “Sure, that’s a surprisingly common request here- but I don’t think they’ll be too happy about it. That’ll give us more time for diagnosis and psychiatry, though!”

_Ah, shit._ Michael did _not_ want any kind of psychiatry. It was all just lame doctors and useless medicine and all that bullshit. 

He muttered a quick thanks to the nurse before curling up on his side and falling back asleep, grateful for the softness and the quiet of the dark.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Michael met with a doctor. 

He took a seat in the gleaming white office next to his parents, who had arrived earlier. They had indigo bags blooming under their eyes, but they tried their best to smile at him- though they still didn’t say a word. Seeing them so silent and tired and concerned made him want to throw up. 

He was still in pale blue scrubs, and had to have a nurse help him stumble to the office because he’s been horizontal for so long. He was also under some pretty heavy suicide watch- as if he would be able to do anything to himself, what with the extreme plushiness of everything near him. Hell, he wasn’t even allowed to use a fork for his meals. But other than that, he thought everything was going pretty well- considering.

The doctor- apparently a psychiatrist, according to the signed certificates on his wall- looked up at them gravely, putting his paperwork to the side.

“Hi, Michael.” He looked to his parents, squinting. “You’re Mr. and Mrs. Jones, I presume? I’m Dr. Martigan, I’m a psychiatrist here-”

“I noticed,” Michael cut in.

“Uh... right. Anyway, I’m going to ask you a few questions, then we’ll see about prescriptions,” he said, with a comforting smile. “As well as, perhaps, a diagnosis.”

After the interview, which was filled to the brim with _exciting_ questions such as, “Do you often have feelings of guilt or worthlessness?” and “Do you have regular or recurring panic attacks?”, Dr. Martigan flipped through his notes before sighing deeply and locking eyes with Michael.

“Michael, my preliminary diagnosis is that you have some form of major depressive disorder.”

That was no surprise to him. Of course he was depressed- that much was obvious.

But his parents took it about as terribly as he expected.

“That can’t be right, can it?” his mom scoffed. “Depression? I thought that was just a made up thing so that teenage girls could feel more self-important.”

Dr. Martigan was visibly stricken. “Ma’am... your son attempted suicide. Is that not remotely concerning?”

His father tutted, leaning forward and frowning. “So, how much will it cost? The, er, medication?”

“Well, it’s not _just_ medication. Anyone suffering from a mental disorder requires both chemical treatment- in this case, prozac or another antidepressant- as well as regular therapy sessions with a psychotherapist. If you want, I could recommend some-”

“But does he have to?” his father drawled, scratching his five-o’clock shadow. “This, uh, mental stuff, I heard it’s goddamn expensive.”

Michael tried his hardest to sink into his seat while the adults worked out the details. 

All he knew at the end of it was that he got a prescription for Prozac and an appointment in a week’s time with some therapist in downtown Austin. His parents talked loudly and angrily about their finances, and he excused himself to go back to the ward. They waved him off distractedly.

When he got back to his hospital bed, he found his phone on the table next to him. Someone must have given it back while he wasn’t there. 

Curious, he opened it, only to be bombarded with about a hundred unread messages and missed calls- from _everybody_. Ray, Lindsay, Gavin, Miles, Geoff- even Barbara had sent him texts, though he had no idea how she got a hold of his number. Quickly scrolling through them, only one message really caught his eye.

**[11:05:17AM] Gavvy-Wavvy:** im sorry.

He turned the phone off, regret sinking cold and heavy in his stomach. 

That night, he was discharged, several boxes of pills in hand. The ride home from the hospital was silent, but as Michael opened the car door when they arrived back at the house, his mother coughed.

“Michael, we don’t understand how you’re feeling, or why. But we’re going to, uh, try our best to help you. Any way we can.”

His dad cut in, with a different tone and a sigh. “Son... you have to face God at some point. First the... _gay_ thing, now trying suicide? You’re a walking sin. We’re going to get you to repent one way or another. You’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

“You _fuck!_ ” was not what Michael had expected to burst from Ray’s mouth when he saw him from across the school parking lot at eight in the morning on his first day back at school.

The hoodie-clad boy ran towards him, something burning in those deep brown eyes. 

“You’re- you’re an asshole, you know that?” Ray panted when he reached Michael, catching his breath. Michael felt his stomach drop into his toes. He was all prepared for contempt, for fury, for disgust-

The air was knocked out of him as he was crushed by a hug. 

“Fuck, I was so scared, dude. Don’t you ever fucking do that again,” Ray murmured into his shirt. Michael squeezed his shoulders, choking back a laugh.

Ryan caught up to them, a disbelieving smile shining on his face. “Michael.”

“Hey, Ryan.”

“Glad to see you back.”

“So, is that it?” Ray asked with hope brimming in his expression. “You’re... better?”

Michael didn’t really know what to say. Of course he wasn’t fucking better, but Ray didn’t need to know that, right? 

“I guess?” he said, biting the inside of his cheek. 

Ray beamed. Ryan chuckled, and slung his arms around the two of them, dragging them them to class.

Lindsay met with them next to their lockers, eyes crinkled in a wide grin. 

“Oh, _Michael_ , I’m so glad you’re okay,” she breathed, pulling him into a clinging hug. She stepped away and exhaled loudly. “I was so _worried_.”

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“Oh, don’t apologize, you dumbass. It wasn’t your fault.”

That wasn’t true, but Michael didn’t want to argue. 

On his way to English through the hallways, he locked eyes with none other than Gavin Free. They both looked away, eyes downcast.

Michael didn’t see Gavin’s fists clench in a desperate attempt to stop them from _reaching_.

 

* * *

 

In History that first morning back, Michael took his usual seat next to Miles as quietly as he could. He did not want them to start the whole “Are you okay?” conversation all over again. When Miles turned to look at him, their eyes weren’t filled with pity like all the others’ were- they were bursting with what looked like relief.

“Glad you’re okay,” they whispered just before class started. Michael managed to eke out a smile.

He drifted in and out through the class, finding it almost impossible to focus. Maybe it was the antidepressants? One of the side-effects was drowsiness, right? He couldn’t remember. 

When the lesson ended, the class filed out, but as Michael reached for the door, Mr. Burns coughed.

“Jones,” he said, voice surprisingly warm and inflicted with overly familiar concern, “I got an email that was pretty... concerning. Sorry if this is intrusive- I know, I’m not your homeroom teacher or anything, but I just wanted to know how things are, uh, going with you.”

_Well, I attempted suicide, woke up in hospital, got like a billion different antidepressants shoved down my throat and now I’m back at school and expected to act fucking happy again, so, yeah. It’s all going goddamn great._

Michael sighed. Why did people actually ask him if he was okay when he wasn’t supposed to tell them the truth?

“I’m alright, Mr. Burns. Getting better, I think,” he said quietly. 

The teacher frowned. “Just.. be sure to let me know if you need any help. Oh, and you missed some homework while you were away- I emailed you the files and the textbook pages. You don’t _have_ to do it, but it would probably benefit you to catch up a little bit.”

“Okay, sure,” Michael said, walking out of class. “I’ll get right on that.

_Hardass,_ he thought, with a smile. 

 

* * *

 

He spent lunch out behind the school again, too overwhelmed to face the cafeteria and all of its screaming- but this time, he was joined by his friends.

They were sprawled out on the sparse weeds behind the bleachers, silent but for Lindsay’s humming. Ryan and Ray were holding hands, fingers twined together just as tight as the blades of grass Michael was mindlessly weaving into a braid.

“You guys are gross,” Michael remarked, looking at the pair.

Ray smirked and busied himself with twirling a lock of Ryan’s hair around his finger. “Yup.”

“ _So_ disgusting,” Lindsay agreed with a subdued laugh. 

They were mostly silent, each listening to music in their own headphones, letting their lunch break pass by as painlessly as possible. They were careful not to mention Thursday’s events, each too terrified to break open the hastily healed wound.

It was as close to peace as they could get. 

Under the circumstances.


	15. (what you think in the morning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, friends! I was on holiday... and lost track of time. I kind of had a hard time writing this and all of my inspiration went out the window and ugh it was the worst so yeah (also to get back into the swing of things i wrote a raychael oneshot whoops dont kill me). Don’t kill me because of how short this is. Hope you enjoy! <3  
> -E

Geoff met Michael in the hallways after school the next day- but it was more of a collision than a meeting.

His shoes squeaked as they were dragged against the floor, Geoff pulling him into the locker room with a grunt. He made no noise of protest, though. He knew it was coming. 

“Jones, I swear to God-” Geoff said sharply, hands clasped far too tight around Michael’s forearms. His breath smelled of tar. “You- fuck, man, I don’t- I don’t know what to say.”

“Uh...” The circulation in Michael’s arms was beginning to cut off. He wrestled away from Geoff and sighed, shaking his head. “Look, I’m sorry. I just... I couldn’t take it.”

Geoff’s eyes widened, then softened. “ _You’re_ sorry?” he breathed. “No. No, _I’m_ sorry. I should’ve- fuck, I should’ve helped you. Or at least tried.”

“I’m _fine_ , Geoff.”

He shook his head. “You and I both know how wrong that is.”

Michael exhaled, taking a seat on the cold metal bench. 

“You know how it feels, don’t you?” he started, careful and quiet and with the lightest tremor in his voice. “You know, when nothing can help you? Everything just seemed so empty to me- at the time, I mean. It wasn’t your fault.” 

He paused, studying Geoff. He was staring at the ground, lips pressed together so firmly that it sort of looked like he was trying not to cry, and his fingers were curling into fists. Something was off about him, Michael decided. He looked even more twitchy than normal, his eyes more sunken, lines creasing too deep in his forehead.

“And you _did_ try to help,” Michael offered after a moment. “But you know how it is, right?”

Geoff looked up, and Michael’s throat closed up when he saw the watery shine in his eyes. 

“I know,” he said, swallowing. “I- fuck, I would know. I’m sorry, I know, but I was so _scared_.” His voice cracked and that was the worst part because neither of them could speak and both of them were close to crying and Michael didn’t know whether he wanted to hug him or leave him or beat the shit out of him-

Geoff sighed and shook his head, pressing his fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Just... don’t do that again, kid. Alright?” He set his jaw, and when Michael didn’t respond, he gave him a light shove. “ _Kid_. Promise me you won’t.”

“I won’t,” said Michael under his breath, shaking Geoff off. He didn’t know if he was lying or not.

 

* * *

 

And despite it all, the world kept on moving. His days passed in a cycle of morning pill, school, home, laptop, Xbox, silent dinner, evening pill, sleep, repeat. And everyone kept tiptoeing around him. 

He’d made his peace with everyone- well, everyone except Gavin, but he was more... _difficult_ than the rest of them.

“You missed the meeting yesterday,” Ray said during math on Friday. _Tell me something I don’t know._

“Uh, fuck that,” Michael said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. “I can’t go back there. I don’t want them all making a big deal about me.”

Ray exhaled loudly. “You can’t avoid them forever, y’know. They were all pretty sad you couldn’t make it.”

“I’m sure they were,” Michael drawled, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Because, you know, I always contribute _so much_.”

“We were talking about depression, and stuff,” Ray said, jotting down something in his notebook. “You would’ve liked it. It was... informative.”

Michael laughed humorlessly, hands involuntarily becoming clammy. “I don’t need any more information about depression, dude. I know my shit.”

“Yeah, but-”

“You two,” Mr. Sorola snapped from behind them, pulling their thoughts away from their conversation. “If you’re _quite_ finished, you might want to get started on the assigned problems.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

The teacher furrowed his eyebrows, and even after he took his seat again he kept staring at Michael with a lost expression. People seemed to be doing that a lot these days.

Michael was goddamn sick of it.

Him and Ray continued their conversation after school on AIM, neither bothered to actually hang out in person. _Too much effort_ , Ray always said. _Too emotionally exhausting_ was more close to the truth.

**BrownMan:** im just sayin, dude

**BrownMan:** come back to the meetings.

**BrownMan:** everyone really misses you

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** yeah, but.... gavin.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i have no fucking clue how to talk to him

**BrownMan:** get a hold of urself dude

**BrownMan:** this is gavin fucking free we’re talking about here

**BrownMan:** the very same gavin that literally almost burst into tears when his wario ass got busted in mario kart

**BrownMan:** MARIO KART, DUDE

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** yeah i know hes pretty stupid but

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** im just worried about him. 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i think i really fucked it up this time.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** and i have fucked it up so many times already.

**BrownMan:** oh shit we’re being serious ok whoops

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** its... whatever. no. im being dumb. 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** lets just be dumb again. like old times.

**BrownMan:** dude you need some serious video game therapy

**BrownMan:** shoot some pixellated asshats with me, hey?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** that would be a fucking godsend

**BrownMan:** xbox live?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** fuck. yes.

**BrownMan:** load up halo 3, i’ll message mike and andy and dylon

**BrownMan:** see if they wanna join the par-tay

**BrownMan:** havent played with them in forever

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** oh my god yes

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i missed them

**BrownMan:** cool B)

**BrownMan:** i havent forgotten about the gavin thing tho

**BrownMan:** grow some balls and talk to the dude

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** uuuuuuuugh. fine. you suck.

**BrownMan:** just doin my job as a friend, bro

**BrownMan:** the best friend in the entire universe

**BrownMan:** youre so lucky to have me~ 

Michael groaned, then clicked open a new chat window. _GavinoFree._

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** we need to talk, gav.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** meet me in that park by filmore and 10th tomorrow at like 1pm.

**YBoyMikeyJ:** please

He waited for half a second, just in case God was working some kind of miracle and Gavin was somehow responding instantaneously- 

Nothing. A blank screen. _What did I expect?_

Sighing, he closed the window, sat down in front of his Xbox and put on his headset, hearing four familiar voices all talking rapid-fire in the static.

“Alright, who’s ready to kick some alien ass?”

 

* * *

 

The air smelled of pollen and last night’s rain. 

Gavin still hadn’t replied to his messages, but Michael kind of knew he would come to the park anyway. He had to. 

But it was one thirty and he was sitting alone on the browned grass, almost giving up. He felt like his stomach had been filled with lead, and the sinking feeling grew with each minute that passed.

Then he heard the footsteps, ripped converse squelching in the mud. 

“Hey,” said Gavin, two steps behind him. Michael stood up and whirled around, heart thrumming.

“Hi.”

There was a long, drawn-out silence, as they walked ever-so-slowly closer. Michael swallowed, hard. 

He didn’t want to _do_ this, he was _done_ with Gavin, he said he was done, why did Ray force him into this, this was stupid and useless and Gavin would just be full of apologies and he didn’t _understand_.

“Michael.”

“Gavin.”

The gangly asshole grinned, despite himself, despite the atmosphere so thick and terrible he could almost see the thorns and spikes growing all around them like some Disney movie magic shit. _What a dickwad._

“You’re looking... well,” Gavin started, running his fingers through his hair like he always did in awkward situations. _Fuck. I still remember random trivia about him. This is bad._

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” he shot back. He could almost hear Ray coaching him through it. _No, Michael, too aggressive, quick, apologize-_

Gavin coughed, and Michael prepared himself for a monologue. “Erm, shite, I’m sorry. Bloody- _fuck_ , Michael, I wish I could have been there, you know? I mean, I’m a stupid dumb idiot and I never really got what was going on and I sort of maybe feel like it was a _bit_ my fault...”

Michael stopped him, heartbeat finally slowing. “Gav. It’s okay. I mean- uh. Can we... Can we just pretend like everything’s back to normal? I can’t deal with all this dramatic bullshit, y’know?”

“ _Oh_. Yeah. Alright. Normal’s, er, fine.” 

They stood there in the cold and the mud for a couple of seconds, horribly awkward, hands in the pockets of their hoodies.

“So, uh,” Michael said, trying to salvage the moment. “Wanna go get lunch or something?”

“Wait a minute,” Gavin said. A grin began to spread wide on his face. “Wait just one bloody second.”

“Huh?”

“Did you mean it?”

Michael looked at him quizzically. “Uh, what the Hell are you talking about-”

“When you broke up with me. You didn’t _mean_ it, it was just because- because-”

“Um.”

“So if we’re going back to normal, then are we still...”

“ _Um_.”

_Are we, still?_

That was the big question. And to be honest, he didn’t know what to think. 

He sort of did break up with Gavin because he didn’t think he’d make it anyway- but did he really want to jump back into it so soon? He hadn’t even started _therapy_ yet. And Gavin was just so unfiltered... He didn’t want to be around someone who was so goddamn careless. For God’s sake, Gavin literally told him to kill himself. 

_Everything in my life is so fucking complicated. Jesus Christ, I have to just choose-_

But suddenly the world fell away and was replaced with something very much like sweetness and sweat and _wow, I never noticed how much he smelled of applegrass_ and, _wait, how do I know what applegrass even smells like?_

And Gavin was kissing him. Again. 

It was different this time, though. This time, it was force and passion and the start of something Michael couldn’t even begin to describe, applegrass and minty toothpaste and the barest hint of regret.

They pulled away and Michael found himself yearning for more. _Fuck, we went over this, you can’t be doing this again, you can’t be falling for him_ again _..._

Gavin smiled, fox-like. “So, lunch, then?” He was already walking away.

Michael was so caught. 


	16. (when the sun shines on the ground)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Hope everyone’s well. These last couple of weeks have been kind of hard so I had barely any time to write, sorry! :c  
> Anyway, there are now TEN THOUSAND hits on this thing- I’m completely blown away. I have no words. I honestly can’t thank you guys enough for your continued support on the story, y’all are incredible. Your comments and kudos totally make my day <3 Enjoy!  
> -E

Therapy was certainly interesting. 

The day after he got back with Gavin was his first session. To be honest, he was expecting the place to be more clinical- like, an office with a plain desk and a couple of hard chairs, and an aging gray man with a clipboard.

He definitely wasn’t expecting the velvet sofa in the dimly lit living room. Or the kind-faced twenty-something woman in the graphic t-shirt. Oh, and the plushie penguin on the coffee table was certainly a surprise.

Dr. Ward’s ‘office’ was actually just her apartment in the trendiest, most hipster area of downtown Austin- which was really saying something.  His parents had dropped him off outside the front gate, claiming they didn’t want to intrude on the session. Michael just thought they didn’t really care. That was the norm for them, anyway.

He knocked, hesitant, unsure of everything. Almost immediately the door swung open and he was greeted by the sweetest-looking woman ever.

“Hi- Michael, is it?” she said, everything about her screaming kindness. Overlarge eyes peered out through overlarge glasses, hair nut-brown and pin-straight. She had a strange accent- Australian, but softened by the yawning Texan vowels he’d gotten to know too well over the years. “I’m Dr. Ward- but please, call me Caiti.”

“Um, okay.”

“Oh! Come on in,” she exclaimed, opening the door wider, and stepping aside so he could get through.

Her apartment was a ramshackle collection of vintage items and oddities, complete with faded floral wallpaper, a vase filled to bursting with tiger lilies, and an indeterminable amount of scattered stuffed animals. He glanced at the diploma hung high up on her wall.

She gestured to the sofa, taking her own seat in the far-too-big armchair beside it. He sat gingerly, sinking into the plush fabric. _At least I don’t have to lie down._

She started off simple, which Michael appreciated. “So, how’s your day been?”

His lips began to form the word _fine_ before he realized that wasn’t what he was there for. “Uh, okay, I guess. Sort of.. ah, I don’t know.” He fumbled over words for a moment, but Caiti sat there patiently, eyes wide and imploring. “Disconnected.”

She seemed surprised by his word choice, at the very least. “ _Right_. Well, Michael. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself first?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “I mean... I’m kinda, just, regular. I don’t really do much. I like video games, I guess. And anime. And, um.” He drummed his fingers on the coffee table. “I’m sorry. I’m really not interesting.”

“Everyone’s interesting,” she countered. 

He could argue with that.

“Your file says you were diagnosed with depression,” she started, running her finger over the notebook she held gingerly in one hand. “I’m sorry, but, if you wouldn’t mind, could you fill me in a bit on the background information? The situation? What’s your story?”

He wanted so desperately to tell her. Everything. His parents, his pills, his boyfriend, the club... But his throat was closing up and nothing was happening and he was so terribly aware of the silence. 

“I...” He sighed and tried again. “I’m sorry. Is it alright if I don’t tell you? Right away?”

“Of course. Whatever you feel comfortable with.” She paused. “How are you adjusting to your medication? It can be hard sometimes, with antidepressants. You said you were feeling...”

“Disconnected,” he finished for her. “Uh, yeah. I guess. They’re kind of messing with my head, I think. I can’t, like, concentrate, and I feel tired all the time, but I don’t know if that’s the pills or just dealing with people every day.”

“Have you talked to your doctor?”

“Uh. No. I just... my parents are pissed enough as it is that they have to pay for therapy, let alone the appointments and the medical bills...” 

He trailed off when he saw her expression waver just slightly to a look of pity. _Fuck_ that. He didn’t want anyone’s pity. He didn’t need it.

“So, your depression,” Caiti said softly. “How does it, er, manifest? What was the first big clue that you needed to get help?”

“Well, the suicide attempt was kind of a hint.” Michael didn’t mean to sound so sardonic, he really didn’t. But it was hard not to feel bitter. 

Caiti let out the quietest sigh, lips pursed. He felt pretty awful. The joke wasn’t in the best of tastes. _Note to self: don’t make suicide jokes. Only you find them funny._ It was weird that he was the only one not offended by them. Life’s little fucking ironies.

“Uh, first it was the panic attacks, I think,” he continued. “And the anger stuff. Um, so I thought they were because of this big secret that I was keeping, and I guess they were, to an extent-”

“Secret?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it. Um, but then the secret got told, but nothing ever stopped, y’know? Everything just got worse and worse until I just, um.” He couldn’t get the words out. “Yeah.”

They were silent for a moment, but for the scratching of pencil across Caiti’s notebook.

The continued on like that for a while, everything quiet and searching and holding back. He knew she was his therapist, that he could tell her anything- but he couldn’t find the words. So he answered her questions, respectful but sparse. He didn’t want to have another breakdown. He had to let it come out slowly.

After around half an hour, she snapped her notebook shut. “So I guess we should wrap things up, then. We’ll continue this next week, alright?”

“‘Kay.”

He left the apartment feeling just the tiniest bit more hopeful for the future.

 

* * *

 

Gavin practically jumped on him the next Monday at his locker after school.

“Hey, Michael!”

He laughed, shoving him off. “Heya, Gav.”

“So, are you free this week?” he asked, bright and chipper and bursting with energy in that sunshine way that was either the most beautiful thing in the world, or the most irritating. Michael couldn’t tell which one it was today. “‘Cause it’s been _ages_. We should totally go to that new pizza place that opened up-”

Instantly he was reminded of his restrictions. “Oh, shit, sorry. My parents are kinda forcing me to, like, not hang out with people for a while,” Michael said, biting his lip. Gavin’s face fell.

“How long?”

“Like, a week?”

“Ah, that’s fine,” he said, though he didn’t really sound fine. “What about next Friday?”

“Uh, I have plans.. with Ray.”

“Oh.” He ran his fingers through his hair, crestfallen. “Alright then. Yeah, you two go off and have your bro time, then. So, Saturday?”

“Um.”

_“Don’t tell me-”_

Michael exhaled sharply. “I’ve got therapy, okay? It’s, like, weekly. For now.” _Not like it’s vital to my recovery or anything..._

Gavin furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t sound too excited.”

“Well, it’s therapy, dude. I have to go.”

“Why don’t you just skip it?” Gavin asked, every word carefully innocent and dancing shameless off his tongue.

_Oh my God what the fuck is wrong with him why doesn’t he get that it’s important to me-_

“I can’t just skip therapy, man,” he replied, trying his best to stay calm and collected. He couldn't break down again. He couldn't. _  
_

“Aw, why not?” Gavin laughed. 

Michael gritted his teeth. “Because. I need it.” 

He was so tired of explaining everything. No one was bothered enough to find shit out for themselves. Wasn’t like Google existed or anything. They all just _had_ to ask him.

“Sunday, then.” Gavin had given up, apparently. 

“Yeah. That’s... that’s good.”

“Alright.”

“Okay.”

 

* * *

  

The rest of the week had been filled to the brim with routine and stress and going through the motions, an endless haze of homework and small talk and his teachers’ concerned faces.

So when Ray came over Friday night, the entire collection of the _Fast and Furious_ franchise and a couple of bags of Cheetos in hand, Michael felt cool relief wash over him. He was so tired of staring at his laptop screen and wishing for conversations to start. 

Things were finally beginning to get back to normal.

As close to normal as it could get, anyway. The conversations were still fragile and light and they danced around any topics that could even slightly darken the mood. It was a little awkward, but at least Ray cared enough to censor himself.

It was near midnight when Michael grabbed the remote and paused the movie they’d gotten to, sighing. “Dude... I think I need your help.”

Ray dropped the chip he was holding, instantly panicked. “What? What’s going on, man? You okay?” 

Well, Michael just felt stupid now. _It’s not a_ real _problem, none of your problems are real problems anymore, why are you talking about this, you idiot-_

“Whoa, whoa, relax. I just. Uh.” Michael groaned. “I’m having some issues with Gavin.”

Ray blinked. “Um... like, what? Thought you guys were together again. Aw, don’t tell me you want to break up with him for the bajillionth time-”

“No! Well...” Michael scratched his head, brushing his curls from his face. “I’m- urgh. I don’t know what I’m feeling, I guess. I don’t know why I even got back with him. Y’know... I’m not sad about it, or anything, he’s great, but he’s... he’s just _Gavin_. Love him to death, but I don’t, uh, _love-love_ him. Well, maybe. I still don’t _know_. I just said yes because I didn’t want to turn him down again. I think. Ah, fuck, I have no idea what to think. He makes all these _jokes_ and I know he’s not trying to be mean, but they’re still fuckin’ insensitive. And I don’t even think he cares about, like, recovery or whatever. He wanted me to skip therapy for a fucking _date_.”

Ray looked him over, expression unreadable. “Uh, so what do you want me to do about it? Play some sad violin?”

That one hurt. Ray had been nothing but supportive ever since they first met but now he just didn’t seem to care at all. It was... weird. Ray was always there. Ray always had smart shit to say.

“I don’t know. Ugh. What does it even matter,” Michael muttered, mostly to himself.

“Mm.”

Michael moved to take the remote again, then stopped himself.

“Thanks for the help,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Really, just... _inspirational_ advice.” He just wanted to talk about his issues for once, and he found himself missing therapy. 

“Oh, sorry,” Ray said, nonchalant as ever. “You two are, like, always having problems, though. Can’t do much about it. Shit happens.”

They were silent for a moment, an undercurrent of electric hostility buzzing in the room.

“You guys are pretty messed up, I get it,” Ray finally said. “Like, really. It’s getting kind of... worrying. I guess.”

“That’s why I wanted you to help me out!”

“I can barely keep up with you two. So much shit happens. How much heartbreak are you gonna put the dude through?”

“Yeah, well, what do you know about heartbreak?” Michael retorted, though the truth of Ray’s statement felt like a punch in the face. “Your love life is apparently fucking perfect. You and your Ryan, always so friggin’ happy-”

“I liked you, you asshole!”

The world stopped. 

They sat there, in the silence, in the shivering cold of the AC. The shock stole all the words from Michael’s mouth. 

“...What?” Michael could barely croak out a response. _No, that’s not true, we were too good friends, he never..._

_That’s stupid,_ he told himself, _my life is complicated enough as it is. This can’t be happening again._

Ray sighed and hunched his back. “I, uh, used to have a crush on you. In, like, eighth grade. It fucking sucked. I was pretty heartbroken for a thirteen-year-old. But you know what? _I got the hell over it._ ”

“I- uh-”

“Dude. I was thirteen. I’m not gonna come on to you _now_.”

“I wasn’t worried about that, man.” 

The awkwardness was tangible. Solid. All the words Michael could think of felt _wrong_ and died, unspoken, on his tongue.

Ray coughed. “So, uh. Anyway. Uh. Please don’t hate me.”

“The fuck?” Michael laughed. “Why would I hate you? Asshole.”

It was silent for another moment. He was still trying to _process_ it. But.. it didn’t change anything, right? He was over it... right?

Wow, his own _life_ was hard to keep track of now. _Fucking incredible._

Ray grinned. “Ha. ‘Kay. So, um. Cars. Explosions. Paul Walker- uh, may he rest in peace. We should be getting back to that.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

He un-paused the movie and the night continued without a hitch, just as it had been doing before. Except, now, Michael felt something empty between them, an overwhelming silence and too many questions and the knowledge that something had broken.

Great. He really needed _more_ broken things in his life. 


	17. (that’s where we’ll go)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess I should offer an explanation as to why my updates always take so long. At this pace, It’ll be done at the end of summer, which is a ridiculously long amount of time to me, considering I started last winter.  
> Um, I kiiiinda had a mental breakdown over this fic. To be perfectly honest, I’ve just been so, so scared to create things that people dislike. Also writer’s block. But mostly fear. I like to think I’m getting better now, and making stuff because I want to, rather than to please other people. Nevertheless, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and your support is astounding and wonderful and I love y’all so much. <3
> 
> [The sermon in this was heavily based on one I found online- so credits to Brian Bill, you homophobic douchebag.]
> 
> (Also, quick plug: you can find me on tumblr at lindsqyjones and twitter @saltwaterrayne! I’ve also created a spotify playlist for this fic here: https://open.spotify.com/user/12136748084/playlist/09rgrFlEw8HXSbv0AqUS6B !!)
> 
> -E

_Two weeks until spring break. Two weeks until spring break._

The mantra was all that was keeping Michael going. 

His absence at the beginning of the month didn’t exactly help him out grades-wise; he was struggling to keep up in every class except History- but that was only because Mr. Burns was sympathetic. He didn’t care enough to do the homework or the readings, he was silent in discussions and hostile when provoked, and the tests seemed to be placed strategically all in the same week solely to fuck with him. He dragged himself wearily through the days, trying desperately not to let the thought of his future plague his mind.

So when Gavin turned to him in Spanish and asked for the millionth time why he wasn’t going to the meetings, his fuse was just about blown.

He was all too close to a volcanic eruption, but somehow he knew it wouldn’t help his case. Caiti had been coaching him through anger management, but it still took every scrap of dignity in him to exhale, cool the fire in his belly, and face Gavin with a half-smile plastered onto his face.

“Oh. I mean. I guess I could go this week..?” he mumbled, not even really thinking. It was just a default answer. _Agree and he’ll stop talking about it._ Too late, he realized what he’d said. _Shit. Now I actually have to go._

Gavin’s face lit up in that sunshine-way it always did. “Oh, brilliant! Everyone’s gonna be so happy, they’ve been bloody broken up about you ever since you- er- stopped coming.”

“Mmhm,” Michael said, sensing sensitive topics and changing the subject- real subtle. "Hey, what’d you get for question two?”

He jumped as Mr. Saldana clapped him on the back. “ _Jones_. Thought we were trying to use Spanish as much as possible in the classroom. Question _dos_.”

“Sorry, sir. I- I mean, _señor_.”

 

* * *

 

So Michael trudged to Mr. Hullum’s classroom at 3:30 on Thursday afternoon, expecting the worst. He’d already been having a bad mental day, and his brain was fucking fried by the final period. Everything just _happened_ , like it was normal, like he wasn’t broken and crumpled. People talked and talked and talked and never listened.

He wanted everything to be silent. No, fuck that, he wanted to _scream_.

He braced himself for an outburst of voices when he walked through the door, only to be met with a terrible lull of silence. The quiet was probably worse than the sound, and the emptiness of it rang in his ears.

“Uh, hey, guys.”

He could practically hear crickets.  In that tiny, precious moment of silence he found himself studying everyone’s faces. 

The first he saw was Lindsay’s, frozen in an astonished grin, red hair still flying from the speed at which she turned her head. Then Gavin, who only had a sly, toothless smile to show. Ray looked gobsmacked, but Ryan just seemed pleasantly surprised. 

No one spoke for twenty seconds. To his surprise, it was Caleb who stepped forward, voice far deeper than when Michael had last heard it.

“Welcome back, dude.”

He couldn’t help it. He broke into a laugh, careless, breathy, every trouble and panic and night terror floating away. It was, perhaps, the first time he’d genuinely laughed in weeks.

He took his regular seat next to Gavin and Ray and listened to their discussion about posters and Pride Day and it felt like he was coming home.

 

* * *

 

Too bad not everything was sunshine and rainbows.

That Sunday, Michael found himself getting dragged kicking and screaming to church. It was some guest speaker, apparently, doing some sermon no one knew anything about. His parents had been surprisingly quiet about the whole gay-slash-depressed thing lately, so he knew it was coming. Maybe they were changing, and making an effort to include him, trying to make him feel welcome. Maybe they were finally getting it. 

Through the window of their SUV, the early morning sun was scattered in dappled patterns across his skin. He traced the pale yellow lines of light across his wrist and tried so desperately to breathe. His head was swimming more than usual, and a wave of panic rose like bile in his chest. _It’s just church. They’re not there to hurt you. They’re not going to kill you. They preach goodness, remember? They preach kindness._

Except, it was hard to remember kindness when all he could ever remember was accusatory eyes, and taunting picket signs, and Leviticus 20:13.

His silver cross necklace was still hidden under his bed, chain broken in half, and he wanted it to stay that way. He hadn’t thought about God in the longest time. Perhaps he should have. Perhaps it was just too late.

It was always too late with him.

They pulled up to their church, silent, tensions still as high as ever. He stole a glance at themarquee board, just quickly, anxious to know about the topic of the sermon- then stopped dead in his tracks.

**GUEST SPEAKER- REV. COLLINS ON THE SUBJECT OF HOMOSEXUALITY**

_Fuck._

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK._

Oh, God, Michael was so, _so_ boned.

Was that why they were so eager for him to come along? To hear, again, how awful and broken and _filthy_ he was in the eyes of the faith? To _fix_ him? 

He made a move to walk the other way but his father gripped him tightly by the shoulder and steered him towards the church. His heart was beating far too fast to be remotely healthy, then he realized why his mind was so addled.

He’d forgotten to take his pills that morning.  _Shit._

He stumbled in and took a seat in a pew to the left side of the platform and just barely stopped himself from hyperventilating. _Count to ten. You are safe. You are safe._

His parents took up a conversation with the family behind them, in light tones, pretending nothing was wrong and their family was perfect and there wasn’t anything _different_.

“Yes, our Michael’s doing _so well_ in school these days, he’s such a studious boy. All about discipline, you see. What about your Adam? Has he grown a bit of stubble, there? Oh, he’s grown up so fast!”

“They all do, don’t they?”

Michael blocked out the suburban small talk as best he could and tried his hardest to count and count and count, one to ten, _c’mon, this isn’t hard, just calm down,_ _please, you can make it through the Mass._

The opening hymn began, then the prayers, but Michael wasn’t listening. 

_One, two, three._

Man shall not lie with man. 

_Four, five._

Their blood shall be upon them. 

_Six, seven._

They are surely to be put to death. 

_Eight, nine._

Abominations. 

_Ten-_

The guest speaker shuffled up to the pulpit, flipping through his notes. He cleared his throat and Michael was jolted from his thoughts, and terror began to pool in his toes.

He began, booming voice echoing in the chapel. “Our churches have caved on sin. Our aim with this sermon is not to be politically correct, but biblically correct.”

There was a murmur in the masses and Michael knew _exactly_ what was coming.

“It’s time for churches to speak out and reach out to those who are confused and ensnared in this.. _worrying_ trend.”

_So, it’s a trend now. Not talking about original sin now, are you? Not talking about a disease of the mind and soul? Now it’s a_ trend _?_

“Preaching about God’s heart on homosexuality certainly doesn’t seem to be “in season” but preach I must,” Reverend Collins continued, pacing around the pulpit. “My wife told me this week that she wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole. But then she said she’s glad we’re looking at what God says. Our society is all about discussing “our rights” but we’re increasingly hesitant to declare, “what is right.” I would not be able to say that I love God or my neighbor if I stay silent.

“The Bible teaches that homosexual behavior in any form is contrary to God’s will and is always a sin. For those who uphold the Bible there can be no other conclusion, no matter what our culture declares, or what our courts decide.”

_Breathe, Michael. In, out. In, out. You can’t hear them. Their words can’t reach you. You’re fine. you’re fine._

He wasn’t fine.

“In Leviticus 20:13, homosexuality is listed among adultery, incest, polygamy and bestiality as an abomination, and any man caught lying with another man is deserving of death. If scripture states that homosexuality is on the level of bestiality... who are we to argue with that?" The crowd murmured in agreement.  “But of course, there is hope for homosexuals. Don’t buy the lie that homosexuals can’t change. With Christ, they can!”

With that, Michael gasped for air and pushed himself out of the pew, running past the rows and rows of families all in their Sunday best- all eyes fixed upon him as he stumbled through the heavy wooden door. 

There was no hope for him here. No salvation, no saviors, no goddamn hand of Jesus to hold. Just him, just the darkness, just his shoes on the rain-soaked earth, and his eyes downcast.

He sat, hands trembling, on the bench just down the path, and focused on breathing and breathing and _oh God I just have to breathe-_

“Hello?”

Michael jumped out of his skin. An inch away from his face were two eyes, round and brown and squinting. His vision cleared up a little bit and the whole face came into focus- it was Adam, the kid sitting behind him back there. He looked... concerned.

“You scared the crap outta me,” he muttered, voice trembling. He fought hard to gulp in another breath of air and calm the tremors. 

Adam sat next to him, leaving a couple of inches between them. “Sorry. Michael, right? I’m Adam. Kovic. I think our parents are friends.”

“I gathered,” he replied. “Michael. Uh, why the fuck did you follow me?”

“Dunno. You looked scared. I wanted to help.” He paused for a moment. “So, you’re gay then?”

Michael almost laughed. “How did you ever guess?” he asked sarcastically. “Was it the hair? Uh, no, the sneakers? Or was it how I fuckin’ bolted out of church when the guy started bashing all the homos?”

Adam grimaced. “Well. I’m sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t do anything.”

“No, no- it’s just.. that sucks. That’s just.. awful. I guess I’m apologizing on behalf of, like, Christianity? We’re not all like that, I swear. I mean, isn’t the point supposed to be, like, love and stuff? And acceptance?”

Michael sighed. “ _Supposed to_ being the key phrase here.”

“I’ve been reading up on this stuff, y’know?” said Adam. “I have this friend who’s, like, bi. And he’s really scared because he’s got Catholic parents and stuff. So I looked it all up and that sermon was totally bullshit. I mean, yeah, the Bible did say that, but it said some other pretty dumb stuff too.” He gestured to his clothes. “You’re not allowed to mix freaking fibers! _Fibers_ , man!”

“You want to give advice to your friend?” Michael interrupted. Adam nodded. “Don’t tell him my story, then. He doesn’t need that kind of fucking negativity.”

“What happened?”

“You... you don’t wanna know.”

They were silent for a few moments, and Michael felt a drop of rain splatter on his forehead. He could hear them begin another hymn inside. 

Adam clapped him on the back. “God’s watching over you, Michael. And all of us _real_ Christians have got your back on this. Reverend what’s-his-face back there ain’t changing the fact that you’re still a person, no matter who you love.”

He made his way back inside, closing the door behind him. Michael put his head in his hands.

_Uh, hi, God. I really need your help. You’ve never done much for me before, so I’m not sure you care, but... please. Just send me something. I swear I am going to break again soon._

The rain kept pouring.

 

* * *

 

“What do your tattoos mean?”

It was Tuesday, and Michael had stolen away from the cafeteria to the grassy spot where he knew Geoff would be. No one else could ever really understand what he was going through, except in the tiny corner behind the bleachers, past the stoners and hidden from the view of the sparse groups of guys playing football on the field. Geoff was a safehouse, a reassurance- that not everyone like him turned out rotten, that he could learn from his scars, that he could recover.

When he asked the question, eyes raking over the stark and intricate designs painted in black on lean forearms, Geoff chuckled.

“Which one? There’s kind of a lot, dude.”

Michael studied them for a moment, then picked one that stood out. “The anchor.” It was plain and black and covered most of his right hand, with a thin rope weaving through it like a banner. It wasn’t anything special, really, but he wanted to know _why_.

“Mm? Interesting choice,” Geoff drawled, Alabaman accent practically dripping with honey and tar. “Got this... a few months back. Griffon’s Christmas present to me. I picked the design, she paid for it.”

“But why an anchor?”

“Jesus Christ, you’re a curious one.” He tapped the ground with long, dark-striped fingers. “I guess it’s to keep me grounded, right? I don’t know. It looked cool on the parlor wall.”

Michael thought for a moment, and words slipped from his mouth before he could think about them. “Grounded? Don’t anchors sink?”

Geoff was silent, scratching his stubble and staring at nothing through sleepy eyes.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Geoff,” Michael blurted out, realizing his mistake. “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine, dude, don’t worry about it. It- it’s fine.”

Michael wanted to sink into the ground himself, anchor and all.

 

* * *

 

**KittensAreKool:** michael! you’re back online! it’s been forever since we’ve last talked! how’re things?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** hey linds

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** things have been.. good?? i guess haha

**KittensAreKool:** nice!

**KittensAreKool:** hey, ryan’s online, group chat?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** sure??

_KingRyeBread has joined the chat_

**KingRyeBread:** hey! :)

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** eueuhg ive spent so much time with gavin that emotes WITHOUT noses weird me out

**KittensAreKool:** awwwwwww

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** shut up lindsay.

**KingRyeBread:** what’s up with you guys?

**KittensAreKool:** nm, just doing some english homework :-D

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** oh shit we had to do that

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** meh im sure mr hullum wont even check

**KingRyeBread:** you should probably do it, michael. i’m a tiny bit concerned about how your studies are going this year.

**KittensAreKool:** what he said. you need help with it?? i can talk you through it

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** jesus, you two are like overbearing moms

**KittensAreKool:** YES

**KittensAreKool:** YEEEESSS

**KittensAreKool:** i’ve always wanted to be the mom friend!

**KingRyeBread:** what a compliment. 

**KingRyeBread:** but seriously, do your damn homework, kid

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** YOU ARE ONE YEAR OLDER THAN ME

**KingRyeBread:** i thought you said i was the mom!

**KittensAreKool:** he’s going through his rebellious stage, honey.

**KingRyeBread:** OH GOD, NO.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**...

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** y’all are dumb

**KittensAreKool:** don’t you dare talk to your parents like that! how disrespectful

**KingRyeBread:** SON WE NEED TO HAVE A TALK.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** oh my god im leaving you guys are so lame

** YaBoyMikeyJ:  ** the lameass parents i never had   


** KittensAreKool:  ** nooooo sonnn dont leave usssss :'(   


** KittensAreKool: **  wait what do you mean by that last part?

_YaBoyMikeyJ has left the chat_


	18. (they should shoot)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance.  
> Anyway, thanks a bunch for supporting the story, amigos, it means a ton! <3  
> -E

Cloudless skies, a swing set, and the smell of pollen. Spring break started off swimmingly.

Michael lay on the grass of the park on Filmore and 10th, fingers gripping Gavin’s wrist like a lifeline. His brain was awash in the pure bliss of _absence_ , no responsibilities, no shitty homework, no forced interaction, and absolutely nothing to do for two entire weeks but sleep and hang out with people he actually liked. 

Him and Gavin talked lightly about stupid shit, about video games and school projects and classmate relationships. It was nice, just to keep him distracted. For a while.

“Ah, did you see that bloody new Marvel film that’s out?” Gavin asked, eyes crinkling in a wide smile. “We should totally go on Sunday.”

“Dude, I’ve had therapy on Sundays for, like, three weeks now. I mean, I could go in the morning, or something, but- y’know. Sleep.”

“Urgh, why’d you have to go to that, anyway? It’s not like it’s hard. I could totally help you just as much.”

Michael visibly recoiled, sitting up on his knees. “Uh, what’d you say?”

“Said, _I_ could just take care of you, or summat.” Gavin sat up too. He titled his head in a way that should have been adorable but really just seemed ignorant to Michael.

“I can tell you right now that you have absolutely no idea how much work recovery actually takes,” he snorted.

“Nah, it can’t be that complicated, right?”

“This isn’t something you can just kiss better, okay?” he said, with an attempt at a laugh. “You can’t fucking save me with some goddamn TLC. That’s not how it works.”

“But- I just wanted to help..” Gavin muttered, expression darkening.

“Well, you’re not fucking _helping_ ,” Michael snapped, far too sharply. He could feel something burning through his veins, an anger that hadn’t been touched in some time now. 

_Control yourself. Control yourself. Control, control, contr-_

But his brain had decided that it was not, in fact, time for control.

“You can’t just expect me to get better after a hug and some hot fucking cocoa, alright? It’s goddamn hard, and I swear to God I am trying my best, but I don’t need fairy dust, asshole. I’ve got... medication and shit. And, like, _professional freaking therapy_. And I’m sorry, but- Jesus fucking Christ- you are not my savior.”

_Whoa. Settle down, Rage Quit._ He could practically hear Lindsay chastising him in his head. _Remember your techniques.You can do this._ That was Caiti, calm and quiet. _You said you were getting better,_ came Ray’s imaginary, ever-present sigh. _Don’t fuck it up._

Gavin, the real Gavin, simply spluttered. “Well- sorry, Michael. Sensitive today, are we?”

“Shut up, prick.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds, Gavin whistling some pop tune ever-so-casually. 

“You and your bloody stupid brain shite. You just.. you’ll never get better like this. You have to learn to accept help,” Gavin said suddenly. 

“I’m... sorry?”

“Quite frankly, you’re just being selfish now, alright?” He wrinkled his nose. “ _I’m_ trying to be helpful, and _you’re_ just not letting me! I don’t know if you know this, but I do actually care about you. And I’m not a bloody idiot.”

“ _I know_ , Gav. I’m just saying that you’re not the fucking best at helping me get through this shit! It’s a _fucking mental disorder._ If you would just stop assuming that you can fix it all willy-nilly, that would be really goddamn nice.”

“Michael, I am trying my best here!”

“Your best isn’t fucking good enough, okay?”

“Well, why don’t you just break up with me then, if you hate me so much?” Gavin shouted, echoing into the silence.

“Fine!” Michael retorted, a kind of firey courage racing through his veins, an honest sort of _burning_ to finally tell that terrible truth that had been eating away at him for so long now. He didn’t stop for breath. “I never loved you anyway!”

The world stopped turning.

The wind rustled the leaves, so softly, but it sounded all too loud in Michael’s ears. And then it hit him. It hit him like a bullet wound. 

_What the fuck did I just do?_

“I... Inever fucking loved you,” he continued, terrified, not looking at Gavin’s face. “And maybe you’re all caught up in your friggin’ beautiful, inspirational romantic fantasy, but this isn’t a goddamn movie, Gav. I- uh. I never fell in love. I mean, I’m sixteen, dude. I’m not supposed to be in love. And seriously, looking back on it, do we even fucking know each other? At all?”

“Michael, what’re you on about? ‘Course we know each other. We’re- we’re-”

“Bois? Ha, yeah, well.” And everything was spilling out of his mouth now. He couldn’t stop the words, the truth, the undoing of everything he’d built for himself. “I kind of only dated you because I could, y’know?”

“No, I _don’t_ know. I really bloody _don’t_. I thought what we had was special. I thought...” Gavin was _broken_. His eyes were glassy and his voice was shaking but Michael couldn’t feel the burn of regret yet. He couldn’t feel anything but the heat of the sun on his back.

“You.. you thought,” Michael said, glaring, every resentment taking form in the bitter of his voice. “Because we _kissed_ , and had a _picnic_ , and we’ve been _friends_ for, like, eight months. And I said yes that _one time_ , and- fuck, I- I changed my goddamn mind, okay? Am I not allowed to do that?”

_Am I not allowed anything in this world anymore?_

_Am I not allowed to choose?_

“Is it... you know... because of your, uh, depression... thing-y?” Gavin asked under his breath after a pause, a bite behind the words.

There was an awful, heavy beat of silence. There were so many catastrophic thoughts whirling around in Michael’s mixing-bowl brain that he couldn’t focus on one, so he focused on breathing instead- breathing, and spitting out the one phrase that never let him down.

“Fuck you.” 

A bird chirped happily in a tree above them, unaware of what was transpiring on the ground below. Michael wanted to strangle it.

“So is that it?” Gavin demanded, hands dropping to his sides. “We’re through? Again? Is this gonna be for good, then?”

Michael steeled himself, swallowing the silence and letting the lead in his stomach settle. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s- I’m done. I’m just fucking done.” 

Gavin nodded, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, hard. Michael clicked his tongue, then turned around and walked away from the lost gangly boy standing alone in the park, away from the argument, away from a _problem_ he’d been avoiding for far too long now. Michael looked quickly back at him- a sad figure, lonesome, head in his hands, dumb floppy scarf waving in the wind like a white flag.

The connection they had between them- it was never meant to work _._ It had always been shaky, broken, out of their own control. It had never been good for either of them.

He was just facing facts.

Michael didn’t look back again.

 

* * *

 

**BrownMan:** dude 

**BrownMan:** what the fuck did you do

**BrownMan:** gav’s chatting to me and he’s flipping his shit 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**...oh

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i uh kinda broke up with him???

**BrownMan:** oh, shit

**BrownMan:** again?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** yeah

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** but for real this time

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i swear

**BrownMan:** that sucks, man

**BrownMan:** i’m sorry

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** yeah well

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i didnt think it would be so bad

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** and i dont regret it

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** but fuck

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** it really fucking sucks

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** :(

 

* * *

  

**PrincessLadyNerd:** Hey, Michael, it’s Meg. I’m having a spring break party this Saturday night at my place, you wanna come?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** hey, meg

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** sure?? 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**..wait, is gav gonna be there?

**PrincessLadyNerd:** Uhh... I think so. I heard about what happened, you alright? 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** shiiiit

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** yeah im fine, dw about me

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** who else is coming?

**PrincessLadyNerd:** Oh, practically everyone. Like, the whole senior year, a bunch of juniors, pretty much everyone in the LGBTQ+ club... It’s a big house. You should be able to avoid him, if that’s what you’re after.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**..yeah sure i’ll come

**PrincessLadyNerd:** Yay!!! :) It starts at seven. You need my address?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** nah im sure lindsay knows it, i’ll ask her

**PrincessLadyNerd:** Great! See you there!! <3

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** see ya haha

 

* * *

 

Michael had never really been to a party- at least, not one this big. Portal 2 co-op in Ray’s room for his birthday didn’t count as much of a party, he supposed.

It definitely didn’t prepare him for a dimly-lit townhouse full of grinding teenagers, awful EDM and the sickly sweet smell of... were those Jello shots? _How did Meg even get those?_

Meg was awfully rich, judging by the decor and the overflowing drinks table. He wouldn’t have guessed it by her brightly-colored tank tops and ripped up Converse, but then again, she was full of surprises.

“Michael!” she exclaimed when he stepped through the door, pulling him into a quick hug. “Welcome! How are you?”

“I.. I’m good,” he said. “You seen, uh, any of my friends around?”

She pulled at a strand of newly-dyed red hair. “Um. Let’s see. Ray and Ryan aren’t coming- said something about ‘practicing lines’.” She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “Lindsay and Miles are here, though! I think they’re upstairs..?” She trailed off as the door opened and a couple of handsome seniors busted through. 

Michael waved goodbye, slinking up the stairs to let her drool over the jocks in peace. On his way, he grabbed a beer can from the drinks table on a whim and sipped at it unhappily, wishing for a buzz to help him forget that Gavin was going to be there at some point. He’d never really had alcohol before, apart from a couple sips from his mother’s wine glass, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt.

He spotted Lindsay, Miles and a couple of guys he recognized from _Romeo and Juliet_ chatting in an empty room upstairs, drinking from red cups he swore only existed in movies. Miles was in a pretty floral dress and combat boots, which was only slightly jarring.He felt slightly underdressed in his jeans and scrappy video game graphic tee. Lindsay turned, mouth open in a frozen retort, then saw Michael heading towards them.

“Jones, hey! You made it!” she said with a giggle. She set down her drink on a coffee table that looked far too expensive.

“Hiya.” He waved, trying his best not to be awkward, and took another sip of beer. He gestured to Miles. “Girl day, huh?”

“Yup.” Miles was impossibly cheery. “Only got insulted, like, three times tonight, so. I’d say it’s a good day.” She clapped one of her theater friends on the back. “This is Blaine, that’s Chris. They’re cool.” 

Chris snorted. “‘Cool’. Yeah, right. First time anyone’s called me _that_.”

“Aw, cheer up, buddy. I’m sure all the ladies will love your portrayal of the Friar,” Miles teased, pulling at the hem of her dress. “The most annoying character in the entire production.”

“And Mercutio’s so much better.”

“ _No_ , you shut the fuck up. Mercutio’s a badass. He got stabbed then _made a pun about it_ while _dying._ ”

Lindsay laughed a rich golden laugh. “Goals.” That sent the rest of them into uncontrollable giggles- some inside joke among the drama kids, probably. Michael didn’t understand the reference, but he laughed along as well.

The conversation shifted to a discussion about how the play was going, and if they thought it would be a success. Michael drained his beer, then excused himself to grab another drink.

As he walked down the marble stairs, multicolored lights flashing to the beat of the music, a hand gripped his shoulder. 

“You okay?” Miles asked, tilting her head. “You looked kinda uncomfortable.”

Michael shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Just.. new people, y’know?”

Miles nodded. “I get that. Well, I don’t, but- y’know. Here for you, bud.” She paused, clicking her fingers. “Hey, I heard about you and Gav. What exactly.. happened?”

“Ugh,” Michael groaned. _And the dreaded question._ “I just... I couldn’t handle him.”

“Hey, that’s kinda... understandable.”

They made their way to the drinks table and just when Michael had filled a cup with something called ‘riot punch’, he heard a voice calling through the clamor.

“‘Ey, it’s Michael _bloody_ Jones!”

The speech was slurred and scratchy but unmistakeable. Michael whirled around, slightly woozy from the drinks, and stared straight into those hazel eyes that were just so impossible to forget.

And oh, how he wanted to forget.

“Um, hi, Gavin,” he mumbled, glancing back at Miles. She bit her lip, not saying a word.

“Didn’t think I’d see _you_ here,” Gavin said. “Not really your kind of hangout, if I’m bein’ honest.”

“Just thought I’d, uh, stop by, I guess.” He waited for a retort, but there was nothing. “ _Okay,_ well, nice talking to you, I’m just gonna go back upstairs now, then-”

“I miss you, Michael.”

The voice was the aural embodiment of a crumpled piece of paper. Gavin’s eyes were glazed over with drunkenness but they still crinkled in a cocktail of desperation and disgust.

A lump began to form in Michael’s throat.

“I’m sorry about that. Now, if you’ll fucking excuse me, I really gotta go-”

“Why’d you do it?” 

It was a clean question, quiet, solemn. Michael wanted to scream. But he held himself back, for the sake of his dignity. The two of them had drawn the attention of a few partygoers, who had abandoned their crazed dancing to watch them fight. 

Michael really, really didn’t want to fight. Not today. It was a party, it was supposed to be fun, free, something to take his mind off of every single fucking worry weighing down on him. 

He should have known by now that he couldn’t escape his own problems. 

“Gav, I- I told you.” He struggled for words, for breath, for _something_ to anchor him to the ground. “I don’t want to fight you on this. Not here. You _know_ it wasn’t working out.”

“Bullshit. You’re beginning to sound like a broken bloody record,” Gavin spat, stumbling a little on the polished wooden floors. 

Someone rushed to hold him up. “Gavin, please, you’ve gotta calm down.” It was Jack, of all people. 

“Piss off, Pattillo.” Gavin shoved him away, eyes shining and nose reddening. He stood up, all crooked and leaning and _fuck_ Michael wanted to disappear. “I hope you’re _fucking_ happy, Michael Jones. I really do.” Jack put his arm around his shoulder then, and pushed his away, into the murmuring crowd under the strobe lights.

Michael hoped for it, too.

So he drank himself silly and danced stupidly with his friends and got home far too late and didn’t even flinch at his parents’ scolding and curled up in his bed and cried a little bit, for everything he’d lost. 

But most of all, he cried for hope.


	19. (together, let’s breathe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, live and in your ass! Apologies if the next chapter is late as fuck, I literally have over ten assessments in the next two weeks so I’ll just be here dying inside, haha. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Your support is incredibly awesome and I appreciate every comment, kudos and bookmark.  
> Heart you! <3  
> -E

**[04:12:09 AM] Gavvy-wavvy:** im sorry micha  el l

**[04:13:12 AM] Gavvy-wavvy:** i dddidn t mean it

**[04:13:59 AM] Gavvy-wavvy:** im so bbl loody drunk rn

**[04:14:36 AM] Gavvy-wavvy:** how cc can i fifx things 

**[04:15:44 AM] Gavvy-wavvy:** i mmiss u .

 

**NUMBER HAS BEEN BLOCKED.**

  

* * *

  

**GavinoFree:** look im sorry about yesterday

**GavinoFree:** i was drunk and stupid and angry 

**GavinoFree:** i just thought we would be together forever and we both fucked it up and i just want things to be alright between us again

**GavinoFree:** its okay if you dont want to date me anymore i would be fine if we were just friends honestly

**GavinoFree:** im so fucking sorry okay? im sorry and it was my fault just please talk to me we can work things out

 

_Are you sure you want to block GavinoFree? This action is permanent and will result in his removal from your Buddy List._

_GavinoFree has been blocked._

 

* * *

 

**To:** [ michael.jones@sf.edu.tx ](mailto:michael.jones@sf.edu.tx)

**From:** [ gavin.free@sf.edu.tx ](mailto:gavin.free@sf.edu.tx) ****  

michael,

i know you blocked me and everything but i just really wanted to apologize for being so stupid this past month, i really am sorry and it was so wrong and i feel so bad

ive just never been able to exactly relate so i never really understood what you were going through? im so bloody sorry and i hope we can just be friends again

-gav

 

**To:** [ gavin.free@sf.edu.tx ](mailto:gavin.free@sf.edu.tx)

**From:** [michael.jones@sf.edu.tx](mailto:michael.jones@sf.edu.tx)

please stop talking to me.

 

* * *

 

It was past midnight a few days after the party and Michael was locked up in his room playing some shitty Xbox arcade game for kicks when his phone buzzed.

_That better not be fucking Gavin, I swear to God,_ he thought, picking it up and unlocking it in one fluid motion.

**[12:03:39 AM] Miles:** yo michael!

_Thank Christ._

**[12:04:12 AM] Michael:** sup, miles?

**[12:04:41 AM] Miles:** not much 

**[12:05:01 AM] Miles:** kinda bored

**[12:05:33 AM] Miles:** wanna chill?

**[12:06:00 AM] Michael:** dude its midnight

**[12:06:19 AM] Michael:** i mean sure but why

**[12:06:45 AM] Miles:** the question isn’t why. it’s why not.

**[12:07:13 AM] Michael:** i cant argue with that

**[12:07:58 AM] Michael:** so u wanna go to wendys or smth?

**[12:08:30 AM] Miles:** actually.. i’m already on top of a car park. so...

**[12:08:59 AM] Miles:** its the one on south lamar next to the bbq place

**[12:09:24 AM] Michael:** a car park. really.

**[12:09:48 AM] Michael:** sure whatever i’ll meet you there 

**[12:10:23 AM] Michael:** but jesus christ, a car park??

**[12:10:56 AM] Miles:** what can i say, dude? i’m an individual!

**[12:11:22 AM] Michael:** to say the least.

**[12:12:07 AM] Miles** : ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 

* * *

 

Michael arrived at the car park about half an hour later, after a sneaky escape out of his house and a really creepy bus ride sat next to such night dwellers as the neighborhood hobo, an old lady that smelled suspiciously of bleach and one greasy middle-aged guy that looked like he lived off of cheetos and Mountain Dew.

He got off downtown next to the parking lot and climbed the winding rusted metal steps to the top with minimal creaking- avoiding the sketchy-looking elevator- and found Kerry and Miles sitting cross-legged on the roof, so close together they were almost in each other’s laps.

The city of Austin stretched out in front of them, the lights glimmering and staining the sky burnt orange. The air was warm- for spring, at least- and the roads below them groaned with congestion. 

Michael took out his earbuds and coughed when he was close enough to get their attention. They turned their heads and broke into smiles, stopping whatever conversation they were having.

“Dude day?” he asked first, vaguely gesturing to Miles’ overlarge jacket and lack of makeup.

“Yup.”

He sat down next to them, absentmindedly tapping the ground with his fingers. “So what are we doing?”

“Not a clue.” Miles looked faraway, somehow. Distant. A car honked down below and he jumped, almost like he was.. scared.

“Are you.. okay, Miles?” Michael said finally after he could see that waiting was getting him nowhere.

“Huh?”

“I mean. Wanting to hang out at one in the morning is kinda weird. And you’re, like, jumpy. Is something wrong?”

Miles glared. “I have _not_ been jumpy. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He’s right,” Kerry cut in. “Dude, we’ve been friends for, like, six years. You’re totally jumpy.”

Miles laughed without smiling. “Nah, you guys are just being dumb.” 

“It’s late as shit and we are literally sitting on the roof of a parking garage. Do I look like I’m being dumb right now?” Kerry asked, serious for once.

“You’re always dumb.”

“ _You’re_ stalling.” Kerry crossed his arms.

Miles groaned. “No, I’m not. There’s nothing going on with me, alright?” He slipped off his jacket, rubbing his arms. It wasn’t even cold.

“Whoa _,_ what the fuck is that?” Kerry blurted out, a tremor cracking like thunder in his voice. Michael turned his head to see something ugly and purple blooming across Miles’ bared shoulder, dark as licorice across creamy freckled skin.

“ _Um_.”

Kerry’s eyes were wide with what looked to be horror, and he scooted backwards a couple of inches. “Miles. What. The fuck. _Happened_.”

“You don’t understand, it was an accident-”

Michael stopped him. “Accidents like that don’t just happen to people like us.”

Miles didn’t say anything to that. He just sighed, and clicked his tongue.

“Look. It wasn’t my parents,” he said finally. “They’re fine with my whole... gender thing. Uh. We have cousins my age in town and they stayed over, and I guess they either found the makeup or the skirts. Not even sure. I don’t really want to describe it but they... they were assholes and they hit me and now I have a fucking bruise. I just-” He breathed, deep and heavy and unfocused. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Shit, dude, that’s horrible,” Michael found himself saying. His tongue felt twisted. For once, he wasn’t the damsel in distress and he had no idea how to deal with it. 

“Yeah.”

They didn’t talk for a few moments, the endless drone of the cicadas and the whine of the city as their backdrop. Miles rubbed his temples, then dug into his backpack to withdraw a white box and a lighter. _Malboro,_ read the label. He fiddled with the box before taking out one cigarette.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Michael crossed his arms. “That’s gonna get you fucking killed. Lung cancer and all that shit.”

Miles laughed and lit it, taking a drag. “Yeah. You’re really one to talk about self-destructive behavior.” 

Michael felt like he’d been punched. He took a deep breath, only to get a bitter mouthful of Miles’ second-hand smoke. Kerry wrinkled his nose and waved it away. “Dude, for real. Cut it out. Don’t be that asshole.”

He put it out on the concrete, crumbling it into ash. “Sorry. It just.. helps.”

Kerry leant his head on Miles’ shoulder. “Yeah, I know.”

“You think shit’s ever gonna get better for people like me?” Miles whispered after a pause. “Like. I don’t know. I really- I might get fuckin’ murdered for all I know. It’s.. normal. It shouldn’t be, but.. you see all the headlines and the hashtags and you can’t help but wonder if anyone actually _cares._  Fuck, I don’t know, I’m being stupid.”

“No, you’re not. You’re right. It’s bullshit,” Kerry said. “The world’s changing, though. I think.”

_It’s normal_ was the phrase that struck Michael. Since when was this shit _ever_ normal? Since when did they get so desensitized to punches? To bruises? They brushed it off like they were paper cuts. Slurs? Child’s play. Discrimination? Murder? Just your average fucking Thursday. Why weren’t people rioting in the streets for them? Why weren’t they important to the world? How hard was it to give them human fucking rights?

The thought plagued him for days after the conversation. 

The world was so full of shit.

 

* * *

 

Ray and Ryan were being annoying again. Adorable, head-over-heels, and annoying as fuck.

Michael just wanted to watch the damn anime. It was fucking _Dragon-Ball._ They were supposed to be hanging out. But _no_ , they had to turn it into a weird third-wheel situation in which he was the only one watching and they were all wrapped up in their own weird.. thing. 

And by thing, they were totally making out like gross freaking children. In Michael’s room _._ And his parents were downstairs. His _homophobic parents._

Ideal.

He could hear them mumbling to each other across the room, foreheads knocking together.

“You’re cute, Ryan.”

“Nah, you.”

“Shut the fuck up, dumbass. We can both be cute together.”

“I can live with that.”

Michael coughed. They didn’t stop. He cleared his throat. Nothing. _Fucking assholes._ He coughed again, louder this time.

Ray turned his head. “Oh! Sorry.. forgot.. that you.. were there.” Ryan shoved him.

Michael snorted. “Uh-huh. Got it. Hey, I’m gonna grab some water. Need anything?”

“Nah, I think we’re good,” said Ryan, already distracted by something he caught onscreen.

Michael grinned, pushed himself off of his seat and headed downstairs two steps at a time.He filled up a glass in the kitchen and was just about to go back upstairs when he heard something muffled through the closed door of his dad’s study. 

He put the glass down when he heard his name.

“Don’t you think that we should be helping him or something?” That was his mom. “His grades are piss-poor and you _know_ how he’s doing mentally. He’s our son. Don’t you think that it justifies-”

“Don’t you start with that sentimental bullshit!” his dad yelled. Michael shrank back. “First he thinks he’s some sissy faggot, now you’re taking his side? He did this to himself!”

Michael was frozen. Every word was a bullet and fuck, he was bleeding but he just stood there and let it unfold in front of him and waves were crashing behind his eyes. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

“He’s our _son!”_

“He’s not the son I used to know, that’s for damn sure. He got himself into this mess. He should be man enough to get out of it.”

The ringing in his ears became too loud and Michael bolted up the stairs, a lump closing up his throat. Everything was collapsing around him. He couldn’t feel his toes.

_I am not his son,_ he thought.

And then,  _I did this to myself._

He breathed, hard, terrified, reeling, bullets lodged in his chest. Ryan and Ray couldn’t see him like this. They couldn’t.

He wiped at his eyes with his sleeves and gulped down air like he had just been drowning. He _had_ just been drowning. He needed time to calm down. He needed time, period. _Breathe, breathe, breathe. You are safe. They can’t hurt you._ They’d get worried if he didn’t go back in soon. _Why did it have to happen today?_

He tentatively slid open the door to his room and forced out a smile and a fractured laugh. “Sorry that took so long. Went to the bathroom.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t bring your water.”

“Uh, I drank it.”

“Okay.”

Michael knew that Ryan knew something was up, but he had to pretend it was fine and watch the show like everything was normal and happy and-

God, he hated having to pretend. He hated the farce, the performance, the different faces he put on whenever anyone tried to talk to him.

He couldn’t ask his best fucking friends for help.

How fucked up _was_ he?


	20. (i must forewarn you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh. Yup. This is super late. Whoops.  
> I’ve been working on a GTA Immortals AU (which you can now check out!).. and assessments and exams piled up. I’m also moving countries in less than a week so add that stress to the pile and you get a very, very un-punctual update.  
> Oh, hey! Same-gender marriage was legalized! Hope everyone’s celebrating the win. <3  
> But hey, I really hope you enjoy this chapter. All your comments are appreciated, pored over and totally loved! Heart you!  
> -E

 And then it was back to school.

It was back to halls of rusted lockers and totally microwaved cafeteria food and homework and tests, and the constant looming risk of seeing Gavin again.

Oh, and of course, the plethora of dickheads around every corner. Michael hadn’t missed it at all.

It was Monday morning, so that meant Mr. Burns was already starting a new project. He stood at his place in front of the whiteboard, scribbling coupled names in near-illegible handwriting. 

“Alright, so we’re pairing up by desks, so that means Josh and Chris, Michael and Miles-”

Some churchy asshole in the trust-fund crowd snickered. “Of course _they’re_ together. Aw, the tranny and the faggot, what a perfect pair!” His friends laughed.

Michael didn’t even flinch- he’d grown so used to that kind of shit at home and around school that it didn’t faze him anymore- but Miles did. Visibly. They opened their mouth to say something but ended up simply sighing and fiddling with the hem of their skirt. 

Mr. Burns stopped talking and turned to face him. “Get that language out of my classroom.”

“Sir, it’s just a jo-”

“I said stop.”

The guy pouted and crossed his arms. “Uh... religious freedom? They’re infringing on my basic human rights!”

“I’m sorry, what _right_ is being violated here?” Mr. Burns asked, every word sounding carefully handpicked. “Is it in the UDHR?”

“...Freedom of speech?” 

A girl in the back coughed into her arm, and it sounded like she was muttering _you’re an asshole._

“You’ve got the right to free speech. You don’t have the right to be a total dick to people,” Michael blurted out without thinking.

“See! There it is again!” the guy declared, throwing up his arms. “Michael Jones, destroying _my_ right to an opinion.”

Burns’ eyes flashed. “Alright, that’s it. Get the hell out of my classroom.”

“But-”

“Discrimination is not an opinion. _Get_. _Out_.”

Michael sucked in his breath and watched him trudge out of the door, stupid snapback and all. He and Miles exchanged distressed glances.

Because, well, Mr. Burns didn’t understand. He just made their lives a little bit worse. Fighting back literally never ended well- they knew that like the patterns of bruises on their stomachs, like the safe conversations they played out in their heads, like hospital beds and picket signs and names in newspaper obituaries. Provoking people never made it better.

Then again, not much ever did.

 

* * *

 

Mr Hullum’s room was mostly empty on Thursday. A bunch of people were at last-minute rehearsals for _Romeo and Juliet_ \- that meant Lindsay, Ryan, Miles, Kerry and Kdin were absent, and Meg was out sick. None of the freshmen showed up either- said something about a shitty science project all of them were freaking out over- and Gavin was nowhere to be found. 

Michael had expected that, though.

So it was just him, Ray, Geoff, and Jack. Ray was fiddling with his DS, and Geoff was texting. _Not exactly the most extroverted crowd._

Meg had asked him to take over the meeting this week, so he cleared his throat as he took his seat. “So, uh.... what’s up with you guys? Any news?”

Everyone shrugged and mumbled vague, monosyllabic answers.

“Well. That’s cool,” he murmured. “I can tell you guys are _super_ enthusiastic about this.” 

He could practically _hear_ the crickets chirp. 

Geoff huffed. “Man, it’s the first week back. Can’t we just chill out for an hour?”

“I mean...” Michael sighed. “Fuck it. Yeah, sure, why not?”

Ray wordlessly put his feet up on the table, continuing to press buttons at an alarming speed. “Nice.”

And then no one spoke. _Small talk it is, then._ “So, what’d you do over break?” Michael asked no one in particular, twiddling his thumbs.

“Got drunk and played games,” said Geoff.

“Stopped Geoff from throwing up over Griffon’s art shit... and played games,” said Jack, glaring.

“Played games,” said Ray. “And I think I hung out with Ryan a couple of times. But we kinda just played games together. So.”

“Noticing a trend here,” Michael muttered. “All of my friends are fuckin’ shut-in nerds.”

“Uh, I went outside, like, once, excuse you.” Ray snickered. “Besides, you didn’t do anything either. You’re totally just as much of a nerd as us.”

Geoff made a sound between a giggle and a snort. “Whoa there, settle down, kids. Don’t go throwing around words like _nerd,_ you could offend a Doctor Who fan or something. _So_ un-PC.”

“Hey, Doctor Who’s actually-”

“Shut the fuck up, Jack.”

 

* * *

 

That Friday night was the world premiere of _Romeo and Juliet._ Well, the actors all _said_ ‘world premiere’. It was just the first on three shows in their school’s crappy little theater- but they were drama kids. Obsessed with hype.

He stuffed his wallet into his back pocket and grabbed his phone, ready to catch the bus back to school. _I’ll finally get to see what the fuck they created with all that hard work, holy shit-_

_Knock. Knock._

He groaned. “Yeah?”

His bedroom door opened, creaking, and his mom stepped in, quiet and sighing as ever. 

_Well, fuck._

“Uh, what’s up, mom?” he asked shakily. “I was just about to leave, so-”

“Michael, we have to talk,” she said. And of course they had to talk, they _always_ did, and it was never a good talk either, and Michael wanted to melt into the floor. 

“Okay?” he managed to squeak out. “What’s going on?”

She sat down on his bed. “So. I’ve been.. thinking. About you, and religion, and everything.” 

_Here we go._

She bit her lip. “And I just wanted to-”

“Mom. Look. I know what you’re going to say,” he interrupted, patience snapping. He was going to be late. “You’re disappointed in my grades. You’re, uh, gonna tell me to be manlier and get out of my room and stop playing video games so much. Or you’re going to talk about how I should just, like, stop being gay. Or whatever.” He exhaled, looking at the floor. 

And his mom _laughed_. She laughed a tiny, astonished, tinkling laugh and folded his hands in her lap. “Michael. I think I... might have changed my mind.”

It was so ludicrous he didn’t register it immediately. “Um. What.”

“I think I was wrong before,” she said, ever so slowly. “To do that to you. And I’m sorry. Your dad might not be seeing so clearly right now, but..” She smiled, soft and sad and warm. “You’re our son. Our job is to love you, and accept you, and I don’t _care_ about your illness and I don’t _care_ about your sexuality. I just want you to be okay.”

There was something wet below Michael’s eye. It took him a second to realize it was a tear. And his entire body seemed to be swelling and he was bursting with such an unfamiliar emotion and he was-

He was happy. He was _happy_ and it was so weird, so foreign, and he broke out into a grin, the strangeness of it all ripping a laugh from his lips.

“Mom, I.. I don’t-” He stumbled on words for a moment. _Just like Ryan said. She just... changed. It was all patience, it was all about waiting, everything is going fucking right again and it fixed itself and I can’t fucking believe this._

She stood up and hugged him, and it was the most beautiful feeling in the world. 

“You’re going to be fine, Michael. We’re going to get you all the help you need. Your dad’ll come around. I know he will. I swear it.” She pulled herself off him and took him by the shoulders. “We are going to be just fine.”

Michael stepped back, almost stumbling in giddy glee, scrambling for his stuff. “Yeah. Yeah. Uh, listen, I gotta go. I’ll be back in a few hours, alright?” He kissed her on the cheekfor the first time in years before running downstairs and out the door, the bus pulling up outside.

 

* * *

 

Michael sat down in the back of the theatre just as the play started, sliding in next to Ray, who whacked him with the back of his hand.

“Asshole! You’re totally late,” he hissed as the curtain opened.

“No, I’m not! It just started!”

“Shh! They’re on!”

“Ryan’s not even on stage yet, dumbass.”

Ray glared at him. “I care about people other than Rye, you know. Now shut the fuck up and watch the play, idiot.”

So they did. Snarky remarks and all.

“Who the hell is this Rosalina bitch?” Michael muttered halfway into the first scene. He as referring to Lindsay, of course, dressed up in a pretty medieval dress and fluttering her eyelashes at Ryan. “She’s gonna steal your man, man.”

“You’ve never actually seen Romeo and Juliet, have you.”

“...No?”

“ _Jesus Christ you’re such a fucking idiot_. Rosaline doesn’t end up with Romeo at all. It’s in the freaking title.”

“Wait, how have _you_ seen Romeo and Juliet?”

Ray tried to hide his smile. “Me and Ryan might have watched the one with Leonardo DiCaprio in it.”

“That totally doesn’t count.”

Later on came the infamous balcony scene- even Michael knew some of the lines. Not as much as Ray did, though- he was literally mouthing the words. They’d obviously practiced it together, _holy shit, they are huge goddamn adorable nerds._

Pretty soon it became a blur of odd words and swishy costumes and iambic pentameter. 

“I have absolutely no idea what is happening,” he murmured, watching as Miles fell to the ground, groaned, and clutched at their chest, fake sword clattering on the stage. 

“Uh, they had a duel and Mercutio got.. got,” Ray said under his breath, something like wonder in his voice. “Now Romeo’s killing Tybalt in revenge.”

“Who’s Tybalt again?”

Ray put his head in his hands. “Dude, if you don’t shut up, I’ll fucking stab you too! I’m trying to watch.”

“You’re only watching because Ryan’s in tights.”

“Shut. _Up_.”

And later still, after duels, marriages and Chris in a friar costume, Ryan and Barbara- Romeo and Juliet- lay dead in a crypt, and the crowd burst into raucous applause as the curtains closed. 

Michael got up and stretched out, his back hurting like a bitch after two hours of sitting and craning his neck to see.

And his phone buzzed.

**[8:46:09 PM] Dad:** Family meeting. Now. Come home ASAP.

And his night was going so perfectly.

 

* * *

 

Michael tried to block it out. He tried so hard to not let it faze him, to not react, to not blow his fuse. He had to remember. He had to stay calm.

Both of his parents were screaming at each other, and he was caught in the middle. The conversation was a warzone, every word was a gunshot, and his chest was riddled with bullets. Snippets of the argument reached his ears, and he swallowed, and he tried to remember if he took his medication or not. Probably not. He always forgot at night.

It started as a family meeting, civil and calm. And then it escalated, and escalated, and he wanted to disappear and he wanted to run away.

“You’re treating him like he’s an alien! He’s our son!”

“You’re letting him be.. this? He’s a goddamn fag. I’m just doing what’s right for him!”

“By yelling at him? He’s not going to change anytime soon. Just face it!”

His mother was almost standing on her tiptoes, all gestures and pointing and straining to prove her point. She was the angriest Michael had ever seen her, and it was fucking terrifying- but nothing compared to his dad.

He was all furious-boss, crossed arms and rolled-up sleeves like he was ready to fight, anger creating creases like fault lines across his face.

“He’s only a kid,” his mother pleaded. 

Michael’s stomach flopped, and his head swam, and he breathed in as deep as he could.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and got up off the couch. They immediately desisted, eyes boring holes into his skull. “I’m sorry I’m like this. Um. I have homework I have to do.”

He made his way upstairs, every neuron in his brain switching off. He just had to escape it.

And they started yelling again downstairs.

 

* * *

 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** geoff? i think i need some help

**Geoffunk:** yeah? what’s going on?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** the situation with my dad is getting fucking awful and i dont know what to do

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** my parents keep arguing and shit and its goddamn terrifying 

**Geoffunk:** oh

**Geoffunk:** uh..

**Geoffunk:** i don’t know, dude. i’m sorry. 

**Geoffunk:** i would tell you to just leave but i don’t know if that would be best for you

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** okay but what should i do

**Geoffunk:** jesus. i don’t have all the answers, okay? 

**Geoffunk:** i didn’t mean it like that but

**Geoffunk:** i don’t know, kid. i really don’t.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** ok

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** thanks anyway, man

 

* * *

 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** lindsay i really need yourhelp right now

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** lindsay?/

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** please

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** im fucked up arent i

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** just so so so fucked up im sorry im an awful person

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i feel like ive been emotionally manipulative to everybody? and i dont know whats wrong with me and its all my fault my family’s being torn apart and i wish i wasnt like this 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** youre probably just busy and ive made it all bad i make everything bad fuck ufck im sorry iignroe this

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** im sor ry for bothering you fuck im such an asshole dont worry about me it doesnt ma tter i dont matter

 

**KittensAreKool:** michael?? are you still here?

**KittensAreKool:** you’re not being manipulative, i promise, and you’re not bothering me, i just came home late because of the play

**KittensAreKool:** are you okay? what’s going on? i’m here

**KittensAreKool:** michael, i’m worried

**KittensAreKool:** geoff just told me abt the whole thing with your parents and i just wanted to let you know i’m always here if you want to vent or anything honestly it’s fine

**KittensAreKool:** so many people care about you. please be safe, bud


	21. (and you all have plans)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, readers! hope you enjoy this update. just a quick note- this story is soon drawing to a close! there are just two chapters left after this, which is... actually sort of scary. anyway, thanks for sticking with this! heart you!  
> -E  
> (p.s. if my spanish was wrong in any way, please let me know so i can change it! i've never actually learned spanish at all so, uh, sorry if it sucks!!)

 The house was silent, and terrifying, and filled with unspoken words. The days inched by, sluggish and hot and impatient, while Michael waited for a fuse to blow.

And the scariest part was that it never happened.

Nothing. Days and days of _nothing,_ every ticking second brimming with tension. He stayed silent around his dad, barely managed to mutter answers to his mom’s never-ending questions, and canceled therapy for that week, all in fear of raised voices and heavy fists. Eventually the dust settled, but the argument didn’t. Every word was calculated, perfectly phrased, every facial expression guarded as Fort Knox. His dad didn’t even look at him most days. 

Michael threw himself into school and work and tried so desperately to not let any scrap of emotion show. He couldn’t let it get to him. He couldn’t let them see weakness.

Every passing second made him hate himself more.

 

* * *

 

**KittensAreKool:** so are you ready to talk about what happened on friday?

**KittensAreKool:**...you’re online, right?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** yeah

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** you already know what happened but i guess if you forgot-

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** my mom actually changed her views and got really nice but that kinda made my dad furious and then they fucking fought and i still feel like shit about it. happy?

**KittensAreKool:** that’s awful, i’m so sorry. at least your mom’s supportive? that’s a start!

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** eeehhh i guess it is pretty cool?? but everything is still really awkward and shitty around here

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**... hey, you have an xbox right?

**KittensAreKool:** nah, just a wii. parents are skimpy. why?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** can i come over and play mario kart with you?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** just to get out of this house and stuff, take my mind off shit

**KittensAreKool:** what, now?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** ha, no

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i just mean whenever my brain gets weird

**KittensAreKool:** well, DUH!

**KittensAreKool:** i’m free whenever! :)

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** thanks tugg

**KittensAreKool:** hey, who can pass up mario kart? :P

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** oh god

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** uh uhh...

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** m,aybe not mario kart????

**KittensAreKool:**???

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** ye ah um bad memories /

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** shitt tfuck shit nonononono

**KittensAreKool:** michael?

**KittensAreKool:** do you need help? how do i help you?

**KittensAreKool:** hello???

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** oh man that was really... weird

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** im sorry i worried you i just

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i had an attack idk it was like .. because of the whole thing with gav and mario kart a few months ago i guess it just reminded me of that ? it wasnt that bad but shit

**KittensAreKool:** is that, like, a trigger for you or something?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** whats a trigger

**KittensAreKool:** it’s a specific word or thing that reminds people of a traumatic experience, and it triggers an attack

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** oh

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** well i guess i have that then

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** haha wtf im so broken that fucking mario kart freaks me out 

**KittensAreKool:** yo, you’re not broken! just shitty things have happened to you, is all.

**KittensAreKool:** also don’t worry, i have splatoon.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** nice.

 

* * *

 

They met in the English room on Thursday afternoon, just like normal. Everyone was in their little groups, chatting aimlessly before Meg or Gavin showed up to actually start the thing. Michael bounced a little in his chair, listening in on everyone’s conversations. Caleb and Miles were talking about binders and presentation. Ray and Lindsay were going over notes from what sounded like Health class, judging by their rapid discussion of bodily functions- particularly genital regions- which they couldn’t stop laughing about. Well, Lindsay couldn’t stop laughing about it. Ray just looked more grossed out. Gavin, again, never showed.

The door swung open with a loud bang, and Meg strutted in, dragging a skinny guy by the arm, which wasn’t actually that strange- except for the fact that it was Chris Demarais, who was honestly just not her type at all.

“Hey, everyone! Uh, today I think we’re doing a discussion about queer representation in media, but first of all, I’d like to introduce you all to Chris,” said Meg, gesturing. “He’s doing, like, a documentary for his Media class, and decided to tackle LGBTQ+ rights, which is pretty cool. And he wanted to interview some of us.”

Chris smiled and fiddled with the shotgun mic in his hand. “Yeah. It’s kind of our final project, and I wanted to do something that’s, um, important and topical. So, I guess you guys can just do what you’re doing and I’ll take you out one by one? Uh... who’s first... Michael?”

_Damn it._

“Um. Okay.” He got out of his chair and followed Chris out of the door. 

“Alright, a few ground rules,” Chris explained as they walked down the hallway. “Try your best not to swear- this is kind of a school thing, so it might not be, um, smart. Make your answers as detailed as possible- we’re going for anecdotes and stuff here. Oh, don’t look straight into the camera, this isn’t a vlog. And if you’re not comfortable with something, just let me know!”

They stopped in front of a row of lockers, greeted by a simple setup of a chair and a DSLR on a tripod. Michael sat down as Chris fiddled with some buttons, then motioned that the camera was rolling.

“So, just introduce yourself quickly.”

“Um. I’m Michael Jones and I’m a junior.”

“So, what’s your sexuality?”

“Uh, I’m.. gay?” He could feel himself exuding awkwardness, and sat up a little straighter. “That’s pretty much it.”

“What’s been your worst experience with discrimination?”

He thought for a moment. “Honestly? It’s hard to pick just one- the _worst?_ I’ve been beaten up, yelled at, outed against my damn will- um, I’ve seen pretty much everything. I guess, uh, the worst was probably the stuff with my parents?”

“Go on?”

“..I don’t really want to talk about it?”

“Oh. That’s cool, I guess. What’s the best part about being involved with the LGBT community?”

“Best part? Um, the friends I made because of it? I don’t know, man, it sucks for me to say this, but my life would literally be so much more goddamn better if I wasn’t... like this. It’s not about _fun._ It’s about getting through a life where people jump at the chance to beat you down.”

“Okay. Uh.. what advice would you give other queer teens?”

Michael almost laughed. “Me? Advice? I’m the one who needs goddamn advice.” He paused. “I don’t know. Be careful. All those videos and, like, websites? I mean, they all say the same thing, right? ‘It gets better’, or.. whatever. It’s-” He barely stopped himself from swearing. “It’s crap. All of it. It won’t get better magically on its own. You _do_ have to try and it totally sucks the entire time, and it’ll feel like hell. It’ll feel like the whole world’s against you and you’re, like, drowning in self-hatred and guilt and anxiety. And you won’t even really get better- you’ll just survive, and that’s kind of what matters in the end. So, uh. Yeah. Keep going. I guess.”

Chris swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked.. concerned. But then again, didn’t everyone?

“Thanks for your help. Can you send Geoff out when you get back?”

Michael snorted. “Good luck getting anything good out of _him_.”

 

* * *

 

It was a Sunday afternoon, around a week after the fight, and Michael had absolutely nothing to do except ignore the finals he had to study for and try to concentrate on whatever trashy show he’d been marathoning on Netflix for the past six hours. He was lying lazily on his couch sipping at a soda, waiting for the hanging heat of Texan spring to finally give him the sweet release of death- or for his dad to call someone to fix their broken AC unit.

He practically fell onto the floor when his front door burst open with a resounding crack.

“What can I break without you yelling at me?” Ray panted in a sudden flurry of words, dropping his bag on the floor unceremoniously. 

“Uh, what?” Michael was so tired from the heat that it took him a few seconds to process the question.

Ray sighed, pacing up and down the living room, hands moving rapidly. “It’s Ryan. He’s going out of state for college.” He paused. “In two months. So, let me ask you again. What can I break?”

Michael didn’t even blink. “There’s empty bottles in the recycling bin. Take them out back and smash ‘em on the back patio.”

“Got it.”

Michael waited on the couch for a while, hearing the crash of glass against clay tile and muffled swearing, before getting up and peering out of the open back door.

“Where out of state is he going, though?”

A wine bottle broke.

“Florida.”

_Ouch._

“Florida?”

A Coke bottle shattered.

“Florida _._ Motherfucking _Florida_. Fuck. _Fuck_.”

“Shit. That sucks, bro.”

“Tell me about it.”

They were silent for a moment, but for the inanimate object fight club. Ray dropped the last bottle, watched as it bounced on the tile, and sat on the steps heading into the garden, staring into space.

“Why’d he wait so long to tell you?” Michael asked, seating himself next to him.

“Fuck if I know. Something about ‘not wanting to ruin what little time we have’. And he said that over AIM! Fucking _AIM!_ What an asshole. He sucks. He’s annoying, and he sucks.”

“Yeah? You were waxing poetic about his eyes just the other day.”

“Just because his eyes are the color of the fucking ocean doesn’t mean he can’t be a dick! I mean, I still love him, but what the fuck?”

“Guess you’re right.” Michael paused. “So, two months left, huh?”

“Yup.”

“At least you’ve got prom,” he offered. “It’s juniors and seniors together this year. And there’s always Skype, and stuff.”

Ray raised his eyebrows. “Prom. Shit, forgot about that. When is it again?”

“It’s in, like, three weeks.”

Ray cursed, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Dude. We need to get tuxes.”

Michael laughed. “You do. I’m not going to that shit.”

“Yes, you fucking are.”

“No. You’re not dragging me to fucking prom, you piece of shit. There’s like... _people_ there. _Drunk_ people _._ Drunk people that _dance._ ”

“I want to stay at home just as much as you do!” Ray turned on his puppy-dog eyes and stuck out his lower lip in a pout. “Please? Share in my misery? You can go stag, no one will laugh at you. Hell, go with Lindsay, I don’t know! Ryan’s going to have the time of his fuckin’ life organizing everything. Oh, shit, he’s kinda rich. D’ya think he’ll rent a limo for us?”

“Actually, that would be kind of awesome.”

Ray snickered. “Operation _Get-Michael-Jones-To-Prom-2K15_ has officially begun.”

“Aw, fuck, don’t start. If you tell Lindsay about this I’m royally screwed. Wait, why do you have your phone out?”

“Uh.”

“You’re texting her right now, aren’t you.”

“Well-”

“ _Ray._ ”

“..Yup.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

 

* * *

 

On Monday, after narrowly dodging Ray and Lindsay’s pleas to convince him to go with them to stupid, useless prom, Michael slid into his seat in Spanish next to a bored-looking Gavin.

Awkward.

Spanish had turned from one of his favorite classes to one of his least, all thanks to the fucked-up thing he had with Gavin making his stomach turn every time they had a partner activity. Today was no different.

“Alright, everyone, we’ll start with a little warm-up,” said Mr. Saldana, pacing in front of his whiteboard. “We’re wrapping up our Relationships unit, and your oral test is in a couple of weeks, so we’ll be doing another speaking exercise.”

Everyone either groaned, or laughed about his usage of the word ‘oral’.

“So, quickly prepare some notes on some of the core vocabulary, then turn to your partner and have a casual conversation on how you feel about each other, and don’t just read out sentences from your workbooks this time. It doesn’t have to be truthful, but remember, talking about your own experiences will help you connect with the language much more confidently. We’ll pick on a few pairs to do your dialogues in front of the whole class after everyone’s done.”

Three things ran through Michaels mind. One: he was going to have to work with Gavin. Two: he was going to have to talk about his _feelings_ with Gavin. Three: he didn’t know any of the vocab.

_Fuuuck._

He spent a couple of minutes noting down a few words that were somewhat relevant, then cleared his throat. 

“Uh, so, we should. Um. Fuckin’ get this over with, huh?” he muttered. 

Gavin simply sighed. “Yeah.”

Michael began to stutter out a response, slowly, reading from his workbook. “Tu y yo... solíamos ser mejores amigos pero teníamos un argumento. Ahora no hablamos.. tanto como antes.”

_We used to be better friends before our argument. Now we don’t talk as much._ Hell of an understatement.

Gavin raised his eyebrows. “Your pronunciation is a right mess.”

“Uh, your face is a right mess. Let’s see you fuckin’ do it.” And wow, it was easy to slip back into conversation with him. It was just always so simple, so light. 

“ _Me miran_.”

“..What does that mean?”

He rolled his eyes. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Bloody- where was I? Ah. Michael, honestamente, yo te extraño, pero por lo que tengo entendido por qué se siente de ese modo sobre mí, me hizo un montón de cosas malas y nunca se disculpó. así que, lo siento, y me gustaría que pudiéramos ser amigos.”

Michael frowned. He didn’t catch all of it- but he knew some words, at least.

_Yo te extraño_. I miss you.

_Lo siento_. Sorry.

_Amigos_. Friends.

_Well, then. Oy fucking vey._


	22. (what’s left)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Only one chapter left after this one~ Forgive me if it takes a bit longer than usual- it is the final chapter after all!  
> Hope you enjoy this kinda short update! Heart you!  
> <3 -E

_Are you sure you want to unblock GavinoFree?_

_GavinoFree has been unblocked._

 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** hi

**GavinoFree:** hi?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** 1\. yes i accept your apology and 2. what the fuck did you say to me in spanish

**GavinoFree:** oh

**GavinoFree:** well that would just spoil the mystery, wouldn’t it?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** fuckin prick

**GavinoFree:**...

**GavinoFree: ‘** honestamente, yo te extraño, pero por lo que tengo entendido por qué se siente de ese modo sobre mí, me hizo un montón de cosas malas y nunca se disculpó. así que, lo siento, y me gustaría que pudiéramos ser amigos’

**GavinoFree:** there, you happy now?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** well, adios bitchatcho

 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** RAY HELP

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** GAVIN SAID SOMETHING SPANISH TO ME AND I NEED YOU TO TRANSLATE IT

**BrownMan:** i dont know fuckin spanish, dude, dont be racist

**BrownMan:** i mean i could ask my mom?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** ok? ?

**BrownMan:** wait

**BrownMan:** WAIT

**BrownMan:** YOURE A FUCKING IDIOT

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**??

**BrownMan:** GOOGLE TRANSLATE THAT SHIT

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**....

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** holy fu ck

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i ... i honestly forgot i could do that

**BrownMan:** FUCKING CHRIST

**BrownMan:** AHAHA

**BrownMan:** dumbass

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i cant goddamn believe i jus t did that

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** OKAY i translated it l m a o

**BrownMan:** and?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** ‘ honestly, I miss you, but from what I understand why you feel that way about me , I did a lot of bad things and never apologized . so , sorry , and I wish we could be friends’ 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** hm

**BrownMan:** HMMM

**BrownMan:** talk to the guy. god knows you two need to make up

 

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** gavino..

**GavinoFree:**???? yea?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** dude i get it. i get why you acted that way

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** a mix of not understanding mental illness and miscommunication from me

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** it was never going to work

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** u know that right?

**GavinoFree:** yeah..

**GavinoFree:** i think i’ve always sort of known.

**GavinoFree:** im sorry.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** me too

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** so.. we cool?

**GavinoFree:** ye?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** nice

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** see ya in spanish then!

**GavinoFree:** yea!

 

* * *

 

It was Wednesday, at noon, and the sun was sweltering. Michael was glad for the shade behind the bleachers. He swatted at a mosquito while Geoff hummed under his breath.

“You seem awfully happy,” Michael commented, ripping up grass. “More so than usual. Which I guess isn’t hard to beat.”

Geoff barked out a laugh, dripping with sunshine. “I’m fuckin’ passing all my classes, dude! For the first time this year!” He was practically singing. “I get to goddamn graduate!”

“That’s great, man! Proud of you.” 

They were silent and smiling for a while, all abuzz in the news. Michael lay down in the tall weeds, dandelions tickling his arms. He giggled, futilely attempting to blow one bare, and watched as Geoff rolled his eyes before lying down next to him.

“You know, I’m gonna miss you,” said Geoff, out of the blue, quiet and husky and _where is this going_. “A fuckton.”

“Huh?” Michael didn’t understand. _Is he leaving? He can’t be. He would have said so._

“Well. I’m graduating. So.” Geoff was blunt and deadpan. Michael was desperately waiting for him to explain the joke.

He sat up again, balling his fists in desperation. “You’ll be around Austin, though, right? We can still hang out, or whatever.” 

“Uh. Here’s the thing. Griffon’s got a new job in Houston.”

“Oh.”

_Oh._

_Houston._

And just like that, Michael was breaking again. Ryan, Jack, Meg, Geoff... they were all going. Just like that. He’d honestly forgotten they were even graduating. This time next month, he would be saying goodbye to some of his best friends. It hit him like a heart attack.

And _Geoff_... there was a part of him that wanted to clutch onto those tattooed arms and never let go. He was a lifeline. He was a reassurance. He was _Geoff fucking Ramsey,_ volcanic, overprotective, beautiful in his rage and his persistence and his apathy.

Michael didn’t want to lose this, this peace and quiet and mutual understanding. It was just so crucial to his own fragile system, something constant, something to model himself on.

He rested his head on Geoff’s shoulder. So they sat there, in the humid and the shade, taking in what could be salvaged from a memory soon to be lost.

“Fuck, man, I didn’t realize,” he muttered after a few moments, bitter and longing and regretful. 

“Well. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I guess.”

“Yeah, that might’ve helped a little.” Michael looked up at him and exhaled. “I really wish you weren’t going.”

“Me too, kid. Me too.”

 

* * *

“Well, it’s been quite a while since we started, hasn’t it? Let’s take this time to talk about how you’ve changed between our first meeting and now. Like, a reflection of sorts.”

Michael was back at Caiti’s again, sinking ever deeper into the couch. It was nice, to talk to someone, away from his trembling, tenuous house, apart from the petty grievances of his friends.

“How _I’ve_ changed?” 

“Yeah! I’ve seen so much behavioral improvement in you so far! Have you?”

He had to think about it for a moment. “I- uh. I haven’t really noticed anything? I feel the same. I mean, I guess the situation’s different.”

He’d told Caiti about the whole sexuality problem in a previous session, but had never gone into a ton of detail. She didn’t seem surprised when he sprang it on her- which was understandable, but honestly unfamiliar. He’d gotten so used to people making it a huge fucking deal. He’d gotten so used to using his sexuality to describe his personality.

“How so?” she prodded, eyes imploring.

“Uh. So my mom.. started accepting me, and stuff, which was awesome.” His voice cracked somewhere in the middle of the sentence. “But that made my dad worse and now they’re fighting and I don’t know what to do.”

“Fighting?” She sounded alarmed. He supposed she was right to do so. He supposed he was wrong to think it was so normal.

“Yeah. They just.. scream at each other. Like, every day, and it’s all my fault. It sucks. It sucks so much. And I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Michael, I’m going to tell you something right now. It’s sort of terrible, but it’s the truth, and it’s important, and it’s going to help you all your life.”

“Yeah?”

“There is no way to fix it sometimes.”

_Oh._

It wasn’t surprising, really, now that he thought about it. Realistically, there was nothing he could do to change his dad’s mind, or to stop his parents from arguing. He would just have to live through it the best he could.

He hated the fact with a burning passion.

_One year left,_ he told himself. _You just have to survive._

“Are you sure? I just... I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

She chewed at her lip. “I don’t have all the answers. You’ve gotten this far, haven’t you? Focus on the positives. You’re halfway there already. Just remember that it isn’t your fault. None of this is. And you’ll always have friends to support you and care for you if anything gets worse.”

Michael was silent, letting the thought work through his brain. 

He was going to be fine.

“Well,” Caiti continued. “I, for one, have seen you grow exponentially since March. Remember how shy you were in that first meeting? How quiet? You could barely get out a sentence!”

“Am I really that different now?”

“You’re _happier_ , Michael. Don’t you feel it?”

He did. 

He really, really did. He hadn’t cried himself to sleep in a long while. The days no longer passed in blurs. There was no perpetual sinking feeling in his chest anymore.

Maybe it was his mom’s acceptance. Maybe it was making things up with Gavin. Maybe it was just the meds. But Michael was absolutely, unequivocally beginning to get better.

_‘It gets better’_ was still a stupid phrase, though. 

Fuck that noise. 

 

* * *

 

Michael and Ray were in the school library after school, fruitlessly attempting to cram for their upcoming Math final. Both of them were close to blowing their fuses.

“Man, what the fuck even _is_ a polynomial?”

“This is why you have to stay awake in class, fuckface.”

“How many times do I have to tell you about Mr. Sorola’s dumb sleepy voice? For real. I hate him.”

“Dude. Polynomials are easy. I want to drop-kick the entire subject of trigonometry into a nuclear fucking reactor.”

“..I feel you.”

“Hey guys!” came a tirelessly cheerful voice. “Need some help?”

It was Ryan, fresh-faced and sweat-shiny, straight from football practice. He pulled up a chair next to them and stretched.

“Uh, that’d be nice of you,” Michael replied. Ray said nothing.

“What are you working on?”

“Math.”

Ryan nodded, glanced at the textbook, and turned his sights to Ray. “You alright, babe?”

Ray turned, an eyebrow raised. “Hm?” The room felt colder, all of a sudden.

“Are you still mad at me?” Ryan asked.

Michael almost laughed before he realized that the situation was totally serious. He bit his tongue and watched them banter back and forth like a tennis match.

“Why would I be mad?” Ray said, full of snark. “Not like you forgot to tell me about one of the most important moves of your entire fucking life. Oh, _wait_.”

“Look, I’m sorry-”

“Rye, what the fuck? I’m your goddamn boyfriend! It’s _fine_ that you’re moving to Florida. That’s _great_. I’m real proud of you. You just..” He lowered his voice as the librarian peered around the corner with a menacing glare. “..You should have told me.”

“I was going to. I just...”

“Didn’t want to ruin shit. Yeah, I got it the first three hundred times.”

“I’m sorry, Ray. Honestly.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s... whatever. It’s fine. It’s fine. I forgive you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Ray sighed, turning his attention back to his books. “Hey, Rye, you’re good at math.”

“Yes?”

“...Please help me with this.”

“As you wish, princess." He scanned the page. "Oh, fuck, are those polynomials? Uh. I gotta go.”

“You _fuck!_ ”

“I’m kidding. But seriously. Fuck polynomials.”

Michael laughed. 

He didn’t want to lose this feeling.

 

* * *

 

**KingRyeBread:** hey, michael! you comin’ to prom next week?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** oh uh

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i dont think so??

**KingRyeBread:** aw, come on, mikey!

**KingRyeBread:** literally everybody else is going.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** mikey??/

**KingRyeBread:** what? i think it’s a cute nickname.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** i dont

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** but ... uugh fine ill go to stupid prom

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** not wearin a tux tho

**KingRyeBread:** yay! but at the very least wear a dress shirt.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**......fine

**KingRyeBread:** i’ll add you to the group chat! 

 

_YaBoyMikeyJ has been added to ‘PROM IS FOR SCRUBLORDS’_

**KittensAreKool:** michael!!!!

**BrownMan:** finallysomeone sane

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**..who named the chat that

**LunaTic:** i did!

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** wait whos here

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** sound off

**KittensAreKool:** lindsay! ^_^

**KingRyeBread:** ryan!

**LunaTic:** mmmmiles! 

**BrownMan:** namnworb

**Keeeeerry:** yo!!

**JackSquatch:** Jack’s here!

**Geoffunk:** hey

**PrincessLadyNerd:** Meg!!

**GavinoFree:** ayup!

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**....

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** this is literally /everyone/

**KingRyeBread:** it’s just as chaotic as you would think.

**Keeeeerry:** SO anyway back to buttplugs

**YaBoyMikeyJ:**????????????

**BrownMan:** lalala too ace for this 

**JackSquatch:** What he said.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** HOW DID YOU GET ONTO THAT TOPIC

**JackSquatch:** You don’t want to know.

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** how do yall get anythin g done

**Geoffunk:** HA.

**Geoffunk:** we dont.

**KittensAreKool:** meg n ryan are pretty good at whipping us into shape

**LunaTic:** i, for one, would never touch a buttplug

**LunaTic:** wbu michael?

**YaBoyMikeyJ:** uhhhhhhhhhhh

**PrincessLadyNerd:** ALRIGHT EVERYONE THAT’S ENOUGH ABOUT BUTTPLUGS.

**PrincessLadyNerd:** Now, let’s talk about carpooling.

**Geoffunk:** kill me now.


	23. (fused at the wrist)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. the final chapter. Hoo boy. As always, hope you enjoy.

It all ended in bubbly rainbow lettering, which was just fucking _typical_.

Someone- probably Meg- had written on Mr. Hullum’s whiteboard in all the dry-erase marker colors imaginable.

**LAST MEETING!**

**IT’S BEEN A GAY OLD TIME!**

Adorable.

Everyone was there but Gavin, which was odd. It was the last meeting, after all. Michael chewed at his lip. It seemed wrong, without him there, especially now, especially today. It had all started with him. With his rainbow poster.

When the chatter died down and the room was mostly silent and waiting, Meg darted to the front of the classroom and cleared her throat.

“Hey, everyone! As you know, this is gonna have to be our last meeting,” she lamented. “The film club’s gonna be using this room to host daily showings of _High School Musical 2_ for the next two weeks.” 

Chris, setting up the projector, pumped his fist. Ray high-fived him.

Meg raised an eyebrow. “So, we decided to host a little end-of-year party today! Gavin’s just bringing in some snacks from my car now, and we’ll be having a showing of Chris’ video! So, before all that starts, any final thoughts about what we accomplished?”

Gavin opened the door with a creak as she finished posing the question, wielding bags and bags of food in both hands. He set them down on a table and leaned against the wall, a toothy smile spread wide on his face. Michael breathed a sigh of relief. _Now_ it felt right.

Ray put his hand up. “Uh, this club got me actual friends for the first time. Does that count?”

Michael put his hand to his heart. “Ray, I’m offended! Wounded, even.”

“Okay, sorry, I take it back. This club got me _more than one_ friend.”

Meg pursed her lips. “Right. Well, the community _is_ the most important thing we can uphold! Anyone else?”

“It was pretty cool to find other people like me,” Jack said, quiet and proud. “Just to know I wasn’t, uh, weird or anything.”

“Oh, that too,” Ray added. “Obviously.”

“This whole club thing made me feel really accepted,” said Miles. “I don’t know. It’s always nice to talk to people that don’t just stare all the time.”

“Yeah,” Caleb agreed. “You guys are awesome like that.”

Geoff nodded, locking his phone. “Amen to that, kid.”

“As for accomplishments,” said Lindsay, “we got those posters up and everything, and the whole ticket price donation thing from the play! Plus, pretty sure helping everyone out with identities and acceptance is worth way more.”

“Absolutely!” Meg said, twirling her newly-dyed hair. 

Chris finally got the projector working and cleared his throat. “Yo, who wants to see the video?”

_Alright, straight boy, let’s see what you’ve got._

It opened with a title card proclaiming ‘ **Queer: A Study of LGBTQ+ Teenagers’** in bold letters. It cut to closeups of basically everyone in the club, each stating their name, sexuality and gender, albeit a little awkwardly.

Then the first question: “What’s been your worst experience with discrimination?”

It quick cut to clipped answers, each stating something equally as terrible. The music got predictably dark and sweeping and sad as all hell.

“I’ve been beaten up.”

“I get misgendered, uh, pretty much all the time.”

“It was probably the stuff with my parents.”

“No one believes me. It’s like I don’t exist.”

A card flashed onscreen showing statistics that Michael didn’t read, something about discrimination and bullying. They weren’t what mattered.

Then, the second question was emblazoned black on a white screen. “What’s the best part about being involved with the LGBT community?”

First, it cut to Ray. “Hey, man, I’m not technically any of those letters. Where’s the A? The P?”

The text changed to LGBT _Q+_. Everyone laughed, while Ray just shot Chris a pleased look.

“The people, definitely. Everyone’s so loving and accepting!”

“I guess the knowledge that I’m not alone in all this.”

“It’s nice to be surrounded by people like you, who’ve gone through the same struggles. It’s.. comforting.”

The final question faded in: “What advice do you have for other queer teens?”

“Keep going. I know it seems hard, and people are terrible sometimes, but you have to push through.”

“Don’t kiss your straight friends. I mean it. It’s a bad decision.” That was Lindsay. _Well, there’s clearly a story behind that._

“Be careful. All those videos and, like, websites? I mean, they all say the same thing, right? ‘It gets better’, or.. whatever. It’s- it’s crap. All of it. It won’t get better magically on its own. You _do_ have to try and it totally sucks the entire time, and it’ll feel like hell. It’ll feel like the whole world’s against you and you’re, like, drowning in self-hatred and guilt and anxiety. And you won’t even really get better- you’ll just survive, and that’s kind of what matters in the end. So, uh. Yeah. Keep going. I guess.”

Someone in the room whistled. Michael blushed. He hadn’t meant to sound so angry when it was filmed.

Finally, the screen faded to black, and credits began to roll. It was a nice video, Michael reckoned, if a little blunt. Chris switched off the projector and took his bow at the front of the classroom.

They clapped.

And then, they partied a little. 

Well, if their definition of ‘party’ was ‘chill out and eat Cheetos and cake for an hour’. Because if that wasn’t a party, what was?

Caleb was regaling Matt and Jeremy with some epic tale of some frisbee competition that the school’s Ultimate team had participated in. Meg and Miles and Gavin were sitting on Mr. Hullum’s desk and watching YouTube videos on his laptop. Pretty much everyone else was either on their phones or chatting casually.

It was all so _normal._ Michael didn’t know how they were all so calm. But then, he supposed, they didn’t exactly depend on their friends for their recovery or sanity. Summer was going to kill him. 

Ray was sitting pretty on Ryan’s lap, grilling him with his angriest eyebrows and sharpest tone. “Promise me you’ll Skype me, like, every day. And call! And check your fucking Twitter once in a while!”

“Uh huh.” Ryan shot Michael a look that screamed _help me._ Michael stuck his tongue out in response.

“Every fucking day, dude. Don’t forget.”

“You do realize that I’m not actually leaving until the end of July, right? School’s not even over for, like, two weeks.”

“Shut up and hold me, old man.”

Michael grinned, and held in a laugh, because it was ending, and they were all going whether they liked it or not, and one day he wouldn’t have his fragile system or his inside jokes or a hand on his shoulder. 

He had so many beautiful memories that he just wasn’t able to let go of. Changing room heart-to-hearts, lunch table debates, staring at stars from parking lot rooftops, gripping wrists like lifelines, playing stupid fucking video games with his friends, and staying up until three in the morning spamming Ray with memes on AIM. 

So maybe Michael just wasn’t ready for the year to be over. It felt like decades had passed since he had showed up alone to an empty classroom on a whim, years since he had been that quiet boy, that hidden boy, still with the choking silver cross around his neck. The year had been so jam-packed full of terrible things and wonderful things and God only knew what next year had in store.

He hoped the world would be kinder. He needed it. 

He really, really did.

 

* * *

 

So maybe prom wasn’t as glamorous as he’d imagined. 

So maybe prom was actually a panic attack in the hallway outside the gym, dizzying and petrifying and constricting his breath.

It had been going perfectly fine up until then. He’d dressed in his only dress shirt and slacks, hitched a ride in Ryan’s beat-up Chevy, joked around on the ride, but when it came to a gym filled to the brim with sweaty teenagers flailing and grinding and screaming, the world began to fall away.

So maybe he’d forgotten to take his anxiety meds with dinner. Again.

Michael sat there, leaning against the cold green metal, and brought himself back to Earth one deep breath at a time. It was going to be okay. It was just prom. No one there wanted to hurt him. 

It was supposed to be a fun night.

“Michael?”

_Fuck._

He looked up, biting the inside of his cheek. Lindsay and Ray stood above him, arms crossed, the very picture of concern.

“Oh, uh. Hey, guys.” His voice wavered, and he cursed himself for it. They were having fun and he was ruining it and it was prom and he should just shut the fuck up-

Lindsay frowned. “What’s up? Too loud in there or something?”

“Well..”

Ray slid down next to him and leant against his shoulder. “Hey, dude? It’s gonna be okay. Promise.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I just.. needed a break, I think. Too many people.”

Ray scooted a couple of inches away. “Oh, shit, sorry. Need space? We can leave if you want.”

“Uh. Appreciated? I guess?”

Their concerns turned into footsteps, echoing across rows of metal and cold hallways.

So Michael waited, caught his breath for a few minutes, thought over his options for a while. He pulled himself up and braced for noise, for emotions bright enough to blind.

He made his way back into the clamor, bass drum kicking him right in the face. Mr. Burns, the lone, unfortunate chaperone, waved at him from across the room where he unhappily surveyed the gym. For someone who cared so much for his students, he really didn’t seem to enjoy their social events.

Michael made a beeline for the snack table, desperate for a drink, but something spiky and tan barreled into him and knocked him completely off course.

A hand was outstretched towards his own, glimmering red-blue-yellow in the flashing lights. 

“May I have this dance?”

Michael looked up into Gavin’s eyes and stopped himself from flinching. He cleaned up nice, at least, in a well-fitting dark button-up with a crooked green tie. His hair was gelled in that ridiculous gravity-defying shape only Gav could pull off. 

“Uh...” Michael started to say.

“I mean- as friends, of course! _Just friends._ A lovely little platonic dance. If you want, that is. It’s perfectly fine if you don’t-”

“I-”

“Oh, I bloody... I bollocksed it all up again, didn’t I?” Gavin laughed nervously. “I’ll leave, it’s alright, don’t worry-”

“Shut up and dance with me, nerd,” Michael cut in. “Jesus _Christ_ , do you ever stop talking?”

Gavin managed a smile. “Right. Sorry.” 

They stayed a respectful foot away from each other, but it was a dance all the same. Well, as much of a dance as Michael could handle without looking like a stupid asshole, more toe-tapping than actual movements. It was probably for the best.

It was never truly Gavin’s fault, Michael reasoned as the song faded into another- shitty dubstep into even shittier dubstep. He just never knew any better. But that was fine, and they weren’t codependent anymore and they weren’t as fucked up as they used to be and they were friends, at least, so that was something. And both of them were finally healing.

It was going to be okay. Relatively speaking.

An arm slung around his neck. “Hey, guys! How’s it going?” Miles was grinning in a rose-red cocktail dress, swaying to the beat. 

“Uh, fine,” Michael muttered just as Gavin yelled, “Bloody brilliant!”

The three of them meandered over to where their friend group were all leant against a wall and jostling each other, drinks in hand. Michael plucked a red solo cup from Kerry’s loose clutches and chugged whatever was in there. It was far too sweet for his taste, but he was young and it was prom and he was allowed to not care about sugar content yet.

“Hey!” Kerry snapped. “Paws off, asshole!”

“Michael!” Lindsay said, dimples growing on her cheeks. “Glad you’re back!”

Ryan sighed. “Now can you _please_ tell Ray to stop doing the Macarena? It’s really embarrassing.”

“I’ll never stop, Rye! You can’t make me!”

“Seriously, you’re not even doing it right.”

Geoff snorted. “How can someone do the Macarena wrong- Oh. _That’s_ how. Ray, _what the fuck._ ”

Michael laughed.

At that moment, in the rush and twirl of the dance and the bass drop, energy flowing thick and dark and sweet as punch, eternal damnation didn’t seem so plausible. Not in this world, not with this life, these people, this whole entire _everything_. The song began to fade out, and he took another sip, and everything was falling into place.

So he curled his fingers into a fist and pumped it at the sky, jumping on the beat next to sweaty bodies and the smell of syrup, every neuron in his brain flooding with _higher, higher, higher_ and _the world is waiting for me_ and _I am in love with this feeling, these people, this life._

If God really was up there somewhere, there was no way he could look down upon that very moment and think of it as anything but heaven.

 

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now... it has ended. Phew.  
> This has taken up over nine months (!!!) of my life. It has grown exponentially since its humble beginnings (a twitter DM conversation and a completely empty pages document) and is now my most successful work, ever, as well one of the most popular RTAH fics on AO3. It’s over 100 pages and 50K words long. Holy fucking shit. That is wild.  
> So I would like to thank you all. Everyone who commented nice things (and not-so-nice things), or bookmarked, or kudos’d, or subscribed. Everyone who so much as clicked on this queer-ass AU. You’re all incredible and the support for this story has been entirely overwhelming in all the best possible ways.  
> I am so grateful and glad that TMK has been able to help people- whether it has explained a facet of sexuality or gender, reassured someone that they’re not alone, or encouraged someone to get help. Someone literally started their own LGBTQ+ club at school because of this, which is absolutely fucking awesome. I didn’t know what I was getting into when I started this, but wow, am I happy I did.  
> Special thanks to Carys for the DMs, ideas and moral support, and to Tetra, Emily and Ashna for being incredibly cool people and occasionally messaging/tweeting/snapchatting me incomprehensible explosions of text after updates. I couldn’t do it without you guys, I love y’all so much.  
> And, hey, let’s squeeze another plug in while this lasts! You can find me on tumblr at lindsqyjones, and twitter at @saltwaterrayne!  
> So, that’s it! I hope you enjoyed this wild ride. I definitely have. Let me know your favorite parts, quotes or characters in the comments!  
> Heart you! <3 <3 <3  
> -E

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [These Mutant Kids (Fused at the Wrist)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621606) by [campbellsoup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/campbellsoup/pseuds/campbellsoup)




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